Compassion
by Funky Chicken
Summary: Spike saves Dawn in The Gift. But coming off the scaffolding Dawn cuts her foot, opening the portal. Still alive, Doc throws Spike into the portal and his blood closes it. Needing him and feeling guilty, the Scoobies try to bring Spike back from Hell.
1. Savior

This fic was in response to a challenge made by Richess. Here is the outline I was given:

**Name Of Challenge:** Compassion   
**Ship: **Buffy/Spike**  
Date Issued:** Feb. 26/02 **  
Summary:** Spike, kills Doc and saves Dawn in "The Gift." But on the way off the scaffolding she cuts her foot and a drop of blood opens the portal. But Doc isn't dead (remember demon) and pushes Spike into the portal. Because Spike is a tainted demon (human/demon hybrid-like all vampire). His blood closes the portal. The gang feels guilty about Spike sacrificing himself so they decide to bring him back. Buffy and Spike having sex. **  
Rating:** PG13-NC17 **  
Requirements:** Buffy-bot must be up and running to help Buffy because some new beasties are in town. Tara gets a visit from Drusilla. Spike comes back 'wrong'. **  
Elements the can be included (at least three or more): **_  
**a.** You can decide whether Spike is evil or human or whatever.   
**b.** Dawn has a vision (like Cordy does)   
**c.** Buffy visiting The Powers That Be   
**d.** Where Spike was (in hell dimension or heaven)   
**e.** Spike having no memory   
**f.** Tara knowing a secret   
**g.** Willow wearing a red dresss   
**h.** Spike staying at Buffy's house   
**i.** Tara taking care of Spike   
**j.** The ending can be sad or happy   
**k.** Spike & Dawn talking_

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Taking the stairs two, sometimes three at a time, Spike was now breathing heavily. It did nothing for his bodily functions, but the action of filling his lungs with air sent waves of adrenaline through him, brought a certain sense of power to his mind as he scaled the tower. Judging from how Willow's voice had sounded, Spike guessed that anything able to make him climb faster was a blessing indeed. 

At first, he hadn't been frightened. He had protested to Willow's demands, thinking that he was needed with the rest of the Scooby troop. But with each stair that was cleared, with each zombie that he threw off the tower, Spike's blood dropped a degree in temperature. These mindless fools weren't trying to stop him from reaching Dawn for nothing. Whoever was up there with her surely had a connection with Glory, meaning their motive had something to do with hurting Dawn. That was something Spike wouldn't allow, not when he had promised Buffy…

Spike bounded up the last six stairs, stopping dead in his tracks when he reached the metallic plank now stretched out before him. Dawn was perched precariously at the end of it, and a short, grey-haired man stood between the vampire and The Key. Spike immediately recognized the demonic human hybrid, his eyes turning cold. "Doesn't a fellow stay dead when you kill him?" his voice was almost aggravated, as if the topic was a casual one. 

The grey-haired demon turned on Spike, recognizing his species to be of the undead. A small, almost mocking smile played along the edges of Doc's lips. "Look who's talking" if he weren't more reserved, a small chuckle probably would have been added, but Doc simply stood still, ignoring Dawn for a moment. The brunette was ecstatic to see Spike, but her opinion hadn't been voiced yet. 

Spike laughed, though it was an airy one, a smirk dangling across his mouth to match the mocking expression of Doc. "Come on, Doc" Spike said as he attempted to catch his breath, an action that had become habitual by this point. "Let's you and me have a go" he attempted to look intimidating as he said this, though Spike was somewhat apprehensive of taking on the greying demon. 

Glancing toward Dawn, Doc's gaze was contemplative as it swivelled back to the vampire. "I… do have a prior appointment" Doc knew he was working against time itself during this ritual, and didn't appreciate being interrupted by a vampire. 

"This won't take long…" Spike's eyes narrowed as he spoke, willing to do anything for the sake of protecting Dawn. Nothing would make him break his promise to Buffy. Nothing. 

Doc gave a small shrug before advancing upon Spike. The knife he carried was immediately unsheathed as he slashed back and forth at the vampire, knowing the metal would have no fatal effects, but right now, any injuries would do. 

Spike dodged slash after slash, attempting to take hold of the demon somewhere, but finding it difficult to catch the small, agile 'man'. Spike paused momentarily to glance at Dawn, and his stop in motion proved to be deadly, in a manner of speaking. 

Metal connected with his frozen flesh as the razor sliced Spike's left cheek open, blood instantly oozing from the wound. Doc's arm began to retract, preparing for another slash, but through the blurring pain, Spike's arm shot up to the demon's wrist, turning the blade on its owner. The jagged end pierced Doc's stomach as a sharp groan was heard, the witch doctor crumpling in a heap before Spike as the blade dug into his organs. 

The blonde vampire stared down at his victim for a moment, droplets of blood falling to the demon's corpse. His breath eventually stopped, and as stillness drifted over Spike's form once again, he remembered why Doc was laying before him in the first place. Glancing up, his eyes met with the blue cores that belonged to Buffy's kid sister. "You all right, Nibblet?" he said with a slight smile.

Dawn, her mouth hanging open slightly, gave a shaky nod to Spike as he stepped over Doc with careful movements, making use of every scrap of balance he possessed. "You okay to walk?" he said softly, immediately going to work on the ropes lashed to her wrists.

"I- I think so…" Dawn's voice trembled, though Spike didn't blame her. It couldn't be easy for a teenager to be in her position and still keep a level head about them. Looking over the vampire's face as he gave her a reassuring glance, Dawn noticed the four-inch wound carved across Spike's cheek. "Spike… your cheek… are you okay?" 

Spike looked up as Dawn spoke, and gave a short laugh. "Hm? Oh, yeah. A little knife in the cheek never did a bloke like me any harm. It'll heal. Now, hold still while I get these sodding ropes off you" Spike wanted to be a little more comforting toward Dawn, but that could wait until they were on solid ground. 

As her right arm came free, Dawn immediately reached out to clutch Spike's shoulder, not trusting her balance after standing on the edge of a tower for more than an hour now. The last thing she wanted to think about was falling, especially right after being rescued. 

Finally, the tension on her left arm was relieved, and Dawn was free to go, with Spike at her side of course. "Come on then, let's get off this bloody tower". Spike held out his hand for the rather wobbly Dawn, and she took it. "Thanks," she smiled, appreciating Spike's hand, as well as the fact that he had rescued her. "Just keeping my promise" he said, turning to lead Dawn off the scaffolding. 

Dawn's first step was cautious. Looking only at Spike, not wanting to see how far down the drop was from where she was standing, her every motion was choreographed, and executed with great precision. Each step was a sliding motion, her feet never leaving the metal surface for fear that it would disappear right beneath her. 

"Ow!" Dawn stopped suddenly as a stray piece of metal slid through the ball of her foot. 

"What is it?" Spike turned as Dawn's voice rang, looking her up and down for any sign of injury. 

"My foot… ow…" she winced slightly. "I cut my foot…" 

Spike's eyes slid down to Dawn's foot, and saw a small pool of crimson forming around her toes. _Blood…_ his own voice echoed in the catacombs of his mind. _It's always got to be blood…_

"Dawn! Wipe your foot off… now! The ritual… remember, it's your blood they need to open the portal" Spike practically fell to the metal structure protecting him from a two-hundred-and-some-foot drop, attempting with frantic hands to wipe away every molecule of blood around The Key's foot, using the purple fabric of Dawn's dress as well as his hands. 

Too late. A single ruby jewel was able to elude the frantic motions of Spike's fingers. He gasped, watching as the bead began to fall through darkness, the motion immediately seizing Spike in a world of suspense. The tiny droplet plummeting toward earth held in it the power of immense destruction should the timing be just right. 

Apparently, the time _was_ just right, because instead of continuing its descent, the drop of blood appeared to stop in midair. Where it should have splashed against the invisible barrier, the scarlet globule sliced through reality itself, tearing a small white hole in the fabric of earth's dimension. 

A violet border encircled the white gap surrounded by night sky, and Spike knew what was happening. "No…" his voice shuddered as it escaped, and Dawn was simply speechless, her gaze following his to the electric light that was growing rapidly in size. The portal to countless Hell dimensions was now opening. 

"Spike…" Dawn finally managed the syllable, touching his shoulder lightly. "That's not… what I think it is… is it?" her lips, usually able to spit what could be the harshest of words, were now trembling, not really wanting to hear the vampire's answer. 

"We have to go" his eyes glowed like azure crystals amidst the white light growing below him. His hand fumbled for Dawn, using her for support as shaky legs stood up. "Run, Dawn… _run_…" although the vampire's voice was calm, the final word in his order was thrown to the petite brunette with fatal urgency. His eyes glanced at her only momentarily, but what Dawn saw in them was almost as frightening as the portal shredding its way into reality. 

Suddenly remembering the bleached man's orders, Dawn nodded, though the motion was a slightly trembling one. "O- Okay…" Happy to hear that the Bit was complying, Spike pushed her ahead of him, helping her over Doc's limp body. "Go, Dawn… don't look back… I'm right behind you… just don't stop moving until you're on the ground" Spike attempted to make himself sound reassuring and courageous, but for the first time in 127 years, he was _frightened_. 

Stepping over the Doc, Spike rushed toward the stairs, right behind the flurry of auburn and violet that was Dawn. A tender yet chilling voice caught hold of him though, and Spike simply froze as the sound quivered against the back of his neck. "Going somewhere? Why not stick around for the fun and games?" Spike turned, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed with concern. Doc was standing, looking more peacefully arrogant than he ever had. 

Dawn's rush down the stairs had stopped as the clunking sounds of Spike's boots had disappeared from behind her. "Spike?" she said tenderly, going back up three stairs. "Keep going, Dawn" he yelled slightly, turning his head but never removing his sight from Doc. "What is it?" she persisted, her eyes falling upon the blonde vampire as she reached the top of the scaffolding again. Doc leaned past Spike to stare at the little girl, and Dawn gave a quick scream at the fact that he was still alive. 

"Dawn! What did I say? Big sis left me in charge of you, and I said to get down those bleedin' stairs, now _go_!" Spike jumped into his demands, as if Dawn had protested two times already to his orders. 

"Oh, now don't be so harsh on the girl. This _is_ her party, after all" Doc's eyes were peaceful despite the chaos blooming around them like a furious rose, composed only of thorns. Hell beasts and dragons were now able to make it through the portal, its diameter doubling with every minute that passed. 

Suddenly, the small demon launched himself on Spike, the vampire grunting as the petite body hit him. Dawn shrieked again, followed by more angry bellows from Spike to "get down the bloody scaffolding or I'll rip you in two and decorate my crypt with the entrails". In truth, Spike wasn't as angry as he was afraid for the girl. Any demon that didn't die after two attempts definitely wasn't the best thing to be trapped with at the top of a multi-hundred-footed tower. 

Seeming to grow more agile with each partial death that passed him by, Doc was able to dodge Spike's many attempts at hitting him, and was suddenly very close to the vampire, almost intimately so. A small hand shot up, catching the bleached poet by his throat. Hoisting Spike off his feet, the demon let him simply dangle over the edge of the scaffolding. "Well now, isn't this a compromising position?" Doc smiled, his small yet strong fingers clasping Spike rather wickedly. 

"No…" Spike breathed, immediately understanding what Doc's intentions were, his plea echoed by Dawn who was helpless at this point. "Oh, I'm afraid so… William, is it?" the curve created by such elderly lips was almost haunting as Doc mocked him through ebony jewels that could hardly be called eyes. "It seems to me like you might enjoy Hell. Be sure to send a post card" as if he really cared, Doc's smirk changed to more of a smile. 

Spike struggled against the grip, his hands clawing at that of the demon's, legs thrashing, but to no avail. Somehow, this little bugger had mustered up some unseen strength and saved it all for this moment. "Dawn…" Spike gasped as he attempted to speak, his airway viciously constricted. The brown-haired girl looked up through frightened eyes, meeting his terrified ones. "Tell Buffy…" all Spike could manage were the two words, but Dawn knew what he meant to say, and a small tear slid down her cheek. 

Sighing slightly at the wonderful destruction unfolding just meters beneath them, the portal to other worlds taking advantage of this pitiful reality, Doc glanced up at Spike. "Good-bye…" Doc's words were quick, as was the clenching of his arm muscles. In a single, swift motion, Spike was hurled toward the gaping pool that was the portal to many Hells and dimensions.

Up to that moment, Dawn had remained static for fear of a scolding from Spike when they finally escaped from this. But, watching his leather-clad form suddenly plummeting downward, Dawn gasped, her eyes instantly filling with tears. "No… Spike…" she whispered silently. Looking up to Doc, seeing the one who had caused her troubled gaze toward the portal, the teenager felt waves of adrenaline suddenly flood her system. 

Screaming wildly, as if she were one of the Amazon warriors she had learned about from _Xena: Warrior Princess_, and occasionally from books and school, Dawn rushed forward, arms outstretched. Within fractions of a second, she felt her hands connecting with the elderly figure of a demon, felt herself push him off the scaffolding and watch as he tumbled after Spike, that odd, haunting smile still spread across his features. 

Dawn took a deep breath before gaping after Spike's now miniscule form as she fell to the surface she had been standing on. Her eyes went wide, flooding with tears as she saw him plunge into the icy depths of the portal, his face contorted with horror. "Spike!" she screamed his name, again and again, accompanied by the occasional "No!" and other indistinguishable words muddled by the sounds of her sobbing. Dawn's voice connected with the night air in a manner that would have made the chords at the back of her throat raw if she had continued screaming all night. 

An odd calm wavered over her though when she saw the walls of the portal diminishing in intensity. It was as if the ivory light created by the gateway was not so much a tear in reality as it was a white ceramic countertop. And, its walls were not being repaired; it was just that someone was finally figuring out how to put the puzzle of Sunnydale back together. 

Spike had done that. The dead poet, the vampire, the chipped nightcrawler, the anomaly in his species, the man in love with her sister, was the one who was figuring it out, so to speak. His blood, although tainted by that of a demon soul, was partially human, and therefore somewhat pure. It had been good enough to close the portal, and restore the fabric of Earth's space and time dimension. 

Dawn couldn't help it when a shaky smile began to mingle with the agonized pose of her face. It was somewhat pleasing to know that _Spike_, of all people, had been able to close the portal. Perhaps he had never been good enough for the Scoobies, but he was definitely good enough for the world. 

Still, the pleasant thoughts swimming through Dawn's mind weren't enough to ease the sudden and deadened feeling closing around her heart. Spike, one of her best friends, one of her _only_ friends, was gone. Never to be seen again. Dead. 

Spike, who was supposed to live forever, had been viciously thrown into a portal by some old demon. It had happened only moments ago, yet Dawn felt as if the pain in her soul could have existed already for years. Glancing around, her hair tangling with the moisture on her cheeks, Dawn noticed the breeze floating over her, rushing _through_ her, even. 

She remembered where she was. Atop Sunnydale's largest tower, made of what felt like rather shaky metal. Spike's voice then echoed in her ears, orders to "get down those stairs or me and big sis'll have a right deadly go at you when this is over". Eyes narrowing slightly, Dawn decided that she owed Spike enough to descend the stairs. It had been one of his last requests, and it was time she obeyed. After all, her grief would do no good if she were to die because of some foolish decision _not_ to make it back to solid ground. Not only that, but she had to bear the news to everyone else. 

_Spike. Is. Gone. _


	2. Just In Case

Dawn didn't know how she found her way down the scaffolding, especially all by herself. It wasn't supposed to be that way. Spike should have been with her, his hands there to catch her when she lost her footing, his always-deep voice chuckling behind her when she became ridiculously nervous. Instead, Dawn had to navigate her own movements, the trek taking her what seemed like hours. 

Making her situation more devastating though was the look of complete destruction that littered the environment around her when she reached the scaffolding's final set of stairs. Just five steps down from where she stood, the world changed from being composed of the cold, emotionless metal upon which she stood, to a city scarred by the motives of a Hell god. Blue eyes roaming the utter disaster, it was then that Dawn paused, not sure if she wanted to become part of that scene. 

Voices rang in the far off reaches of her mind, able to connect with the deepest portions of Dawn's consciousness. The connection made by those somewhat familiar sounds helped to clear the girl's mind, settling it just as time was able to settle the dust circling the destroyed construction site. 

"Dawn…" a shaky voice was finally able to construct a known word within the teen's mind, and her head snapped toward the voice. Buffy was standing there, and behind and alongside her appeared the forms of her friends. The Slayer herself looked battered and beaten, bruises marring her once perfect composure. Willow and Tara were using each other for support, their clothes slightly ragged, hair of course thrown everywhere. Xander was walking on his own, though he looked many years older with the exhaustion he wore. Anya and Giles weren't so bad looking, but they didn't look _good_, either. And Spike… he… Dawn searched the crowd for a moment, the movements of her eyes more of an instinctive movement… oh yeah. Spike. 

"Buffy…" was all Dawn could manage at that moment. The final five steps were ones that Dawn practically fell down as she rushed toward her sister, wrapping the Slayer in the tightest embrace she could muster. "Buffy…" she gasped slightly "you're alive… you're all alive…" Dawn sobbed, her cheek pummelling Buffy's shoulder as the blonde girl simply rubbed her sister's back in the embrace, the eyes of each girl sewn shut.  

Through their embrace, however, Buffy's mind was still able to create logical trains of thought. Suddenly, she realised that her sister had been alone when she came down the tower. A leather-clad, bleached vampire seemed to be missing. 

"Uh… Dawn…?" Buffy's voice was gentle, wanting to be as tender as possible after the ordeal her sister had faced. "Is Spike planning on coming down anytime soon? It's almost daylight" the Slayer was slightly concerned. She thought Spike was smarter than that. 

Dawn's voice caught in her throat as the question was asked. With all that time to spare, she hadn't been able to think of a way to tell the Scoobies about Spike's demise. In the hour it must have taken her to descend the scaffolding, Dawn hadn't even been able to come up with an appropriate syllable. How could she tell them that Spike was dead in an understandable form of language?

Dawn was rescued from her mental maze when the sound of a soft whimper came from some far off region. Finally breaking totally away from her sister, Dawn glanced in the direction from where the muffled cry had originated. Willow was standing, seemingly staring at a pile of rubble, though Dawn hardly believed that she was upset about some bricks and wood. Walking closer to the red head, craning her neck over the pile of waste, Dawn saw what the strawberry-haired Wicca was so upset over. 

Finally, her nightmare had come true. Exposed by a newly dawning sun was the tragedy that had occurred only hours ago. Spike was there. Looks like she wouldn't have to break the news after all. 

Lying flat out on his stomach, Spike was facing them, his chiselled features bearing a somewhat troubled look. His dark, powerful eyebrows were slightly furrowed; the crimson lips Buffy had kissed on two separate occasions pressed into a serious expression. Legs simply sprawled straight, Spike's left arm was bent, and his fingers almost touched the bleached hair he always wore slicked back. Lastly, his right arm simply laid parallel to the rest of his body, giving the vampire a peaceful yet troubled look. 

"Oh God…" her voice snagged while attempting to rise "is he…?" Buffy shattered the heavy air of silence that had hung over the Scooby crowd as they all took time to fully grasp who laid before them, and what state he was in. The Slayer couldn't believe that her heart was clenched with emotional pain, a salty liquid just begging to form at the corners of her eyes. When she thought about it though, her body was reacting naturally. For the past year or so, Spike had been a not-so-obvious champion of the Scooby gang. Hell, Buffy could even go far enough to say that they _needed_ him in the fight. To feel nothing at all when looking at what was possibly his dead body would be a disgrace to the vampire. After all, she had hardly forgotten how his lips had remained sealed against Glory's torture.  

Dawn glanced up as her sister spoke. Denying to herself that the man lying before her was now nothing more than a corpse, the teen gave a weak shrug, being all she could muster at the moment. "I… I don't know… the portal… he…" she stumbled over every few syllables, attempting to remain in tact. If she disassembled into a heap of sobs right now, she might never have the strength to make it home. 

Noticing the jarred state her sister was in, Buffy gave no verbal response. Rubbing her own shoulder, she glanced back at Giles, silently requesting that he comfort Dawn. Moving beside Willow, the Slayer's words were silent, not wanting to further upset her sister who was already broken enough. It couldn't be easy to lose someone who had been like a brother to her.

"What do you think, Willow?" Buffy could hardly believe it, but she had just formed a complete sentence. A quiet, and slightly trembling one, conjured from lips that hung below a deadened gaze, but a sentence none the less. The Wicca simply sighed. 

"I don't know… from what Dawnie said, it sounds as if Spike was the one who closed the portal" Willow took a moment to catch her breath, and to simply think of what would happen should a vampire be thrown into the gateway between Hell dimensions. She had to admit, Spike's condition had her a little shaken. Vampire or not, he could be a rather sweet guy, even capable of helping out here and there. "He's a vampire, I'll give you that much, but even then I don't know if he could have survived…" Willow took half-glances toward Buffy, her eyes never really coming in contact with the Slayer's face for more than a split second. It seemed as if Buffy was slightly torn on how to feel about Spike's… state. Everyone was, even Xander, the last person on earth who would ever join a 'Spike Fan Club'. 

Nodding slowly, still stroking her arm and shoulder, Buffy glanced toward the horizon, the breaking point just barely beginning to show signs of sunlight. "Well, um… let's get him inside… just in case…" Buffy glanced around, her eyes more glassy than they had been a moment ago. Turning back to motion for Xander's help, she saw that Dawn's cheeks were now reddened, and Giles had her in a fatherly embrace, sliding his hand down the back of her hair in comfort. Buffy mouthed a soft 'thank you' to him, and the Watcher simply smiled and nodded.

"Xander?" the carpenter looked up, his gaze having been fixed on the ground for some unknown amount of time. Right now, Buffy didn't care how much he and Spike had disliked each other, Xander was the only one who could help her carry him home. "I… I need your help moving him," Buffy stated simply, ready to put up a fight if her friend disagreed. 

Much to her surprise, and gratitude, Xander simply nodded and willingly stepped forward. It seemed as if he had suddenly remembered all the times he had been saved by the peroxide foe in some way or another. Either that, or Xander just didn't want to hurt either Summers girl more than he had to. For Buffy, it didn't matter. The fact that he was helping her without a word of protest was good enough. 

With the loyal boy's help, Buffy hoisted Spike above the ground, handling his lean frame like a Christmas care package. She took the vampire's left side, and Xander took the right. This was going to be a long walk home. 

"Oh…" Tara's voice slipped into Buffy's ear, and she glanced at the sorceress. "L-look at his cheek" she pointed out the multi-inched gash on Spike's face, still slightly moist with blood. Buffy had an urge to stop and wipe the wound clean, but she thought it best to leave him with his battle scar. For now at least. Remaining silent, she and Xander simply continued on behind the others. 

"Sun's almost up…" Dawn's voice was barely audible as she walked with Giles, but Buffy knew what the teen was getting at. "I know, Dawn… we're going as fast as we can…" Buffy's reply was as gentle as she could make it. Instead of throwing a harsh glare at her sister or mouthing-off as she usually would have, Dawn stepped in front of the vampire, causing the Slayer and Xander to halt. "Dawn, what are you…" before Buffy could finish the question, she realised what the girl was doing. Dawn hoisted Spike up by the legs, making him easier to carry. It didn't take long for Willow to follow suit, and before long, Spike had a person responsible for each of his limbs. 

The Scooby squad, though a tired and injured looking group, made their way down Revello Drive with a certain sense of pride clicking at their heels. In their arms was a vampire, one of the least likely candidates for being carried like a hero, but still the winner of such a contest. A group that had been together and growing over a span of four years journeyed down the Sunnydale road, taking a vampire to the safety of a dark climate. Just in case he decided to wake up.


	3. The Dark Room

Thought was just beginning to take place in the catacombs of Spike's mind. Feeling as if he had been asleep for eons, the vampire wanted to fully awaken, but found that every rational thought had packed a suitcase full of pain. Fiery chords seemed to hang from every muscle fibre in Spike's body, the pain within his mind appearing to be almost equally as harsh as that in each of his limbs. 

Must have been that blasted fall. Things were serene around Spike though, telling him that he had probably slept through the rest of the battle. A lack of screaming Hell beasts also gave Spike the hint that Buffy had managed to defeat the unbeatable. A vampire Slayer versus one of Hell's bitchiest goddesses, and Buffy had won. 

Invisible ropes tugged at the vampire's lips as he thought of the blonde beauty that had captivated him for so long now. However, the resulting muscular and mental pain from his partial smile was enough to demolish any further thought, and Spike decided it was time to open his eyes. Perhaps being exposed to actual images would make the pain go away. 

Standing up in a wobbly fashion, attempting to ignore the cascades of electric burn that rushed through his legs and arms, Spike rubbed his eyes and finally opened them to a world of… black. Black. More black. Spinning on his heel a second and third time, adding a fourth motion just to be sure, Spike found himself confused rather quickly. 

"All right, who turned off the bloody lights?" Spike growled into the void that encased him. Somehow, he got the feeling that he wasn't in his crypt or in the middle of a graveyard. Tingling on his spine was the notion that this place was miles away from Sunnydale. 

Black, ebon, raven, charcoal, whatever he chose to call it, whatever adjective a poet could use to describe the colour of nothing, Spike was drowning in it. Confused? Definitely. Angry? Slightly. Frightened? As if he'd ever admit to that. Still… knowing that other dimensions were rather unpredictable, Spike wasn't ashamed to admit with a second thought that perhaps he was just a little frightened. That is, of course, if he _was_ in another dimension.   

Only the daftest of any species would not be the _least_ apprehensive about this kind of surrounding. Nobody could go from the top of a rickety tower to a suddenly blank ball of nothing and not have even the slightest suspicion that they were no longer in some earth-bound reality. Spike wondered for only a moment about Buffy, Dawn, and even Glory before deciding that those things were best left until he was back home. In order to do that, he had to figure out where he was, and why everything was so… black. 

Strangest of all, however, was that what surrounded Spike didn't seem to be _dark_, it was just _blank_. Looking down at himself, the vampire found that his limbs were plainly visible, as if he were standing in broad daylight. It was as if his form had been cut out of wherever he had been, and pasted onto black paper. 

"All right… very funny… ripping good laugh as some English folk might say. Now, make with the lights, people…" Spike called, not sure if he even made any sense. Startled when his voice began to echo, Spike decided that he definitely wasn't indoors. Hell, of course he wasn't indoors. Right now, it seemed as if he was _nowhere_. 

Standing in a world of silence, almost deafened by the lack of sound, Spike prayed for something to appear. Another vampire, a demon, even _Xander_ would do the trick. Anything to prove that he was still on earth. As time moved on, however, his theory of standing in an alternate dimension became more and more plausible. 

"Spike…?" a voice. Finally, Spike got what he was asking for. Proof that life existed here, wherever 'here' might be. Wait… was that _Buffy's_ voice? And she sounded so close, perhaps right behind him… 

Turning as he had done many times already, Spike couldn't believe the reward he was offered for his movements, the same motions that still caused some pain in his muscles. A smile spread over the vampire's lips as his predictions proved to be true. What more could he ask for than to be in the middle of nowhere, and rescued by the woman he loved? Who cared how she got there with him, or _why_ she was there… for Spike, it was enough just to have her with him. 

Buffy was standing there, and like him, she was washed in a supernatural light, giving an angelic glow to every portion of her body. Draped in a forest green dress that seemed able to hug every curve Spike adored, Buffy was wearing nothing else, her hair allowed to hang loosely at either shoulder. 

"Hello Buffy…" Spike remained formal, knowing that Buffy was immune to any form of affection he sent her way. The girl simply stood there, hands loosely clasped behind her back as if she were some timid student. Spike couldn't help it as his eyes roamed her form, though he attempted to remain subtle about it. Her simple presence seemed able to wash away every worry he had about being stuck in the middle of nowhere. 

Curves began to flex, however, as Buffy took confident yet somewhat solemn steps toward Spike. The light-hearted tone she had worn a moment ago seemed to turn more serious with every step she took. Lost in the Slayer's emerald eyes, Spike couldn't help the nervousness that began to crawl up his spine. Buffy looked serious, but in an almost terrified and strangely sympathetic manner. Was she feeling sorry for him…? Afraid, perhaps…? And… Why…?

"Spike…" Buffy didn't sound confident anymore. Instead, her voice was rather concerned. Again, the vampire posed mental questions as to why the Slayer would sound worried when speaking his name. 

Suddenly realising how close Buffy had become, Spike was about to step back, assuming that he had moved closer without even noticing it. The movement was easier to think of than to actually accomplish, however. Intoxicated by the scent of raspberries, a designer perfume, and the natural beauty that every Slayer owned, his primal urges sent a steamroller over Spike's initial wishes to be polite. This was perhaps the closest he might even be to the Slayer without fists and kicks being part of the equation. 

Lips. Suddenly, lips. Buffy's lips. All he could feel was the warm, tingling sensation of velvet brushing against his mouth. Buffy… was kissing him. Not because she was under a spell, not because Spike was dreaming, and not because she was posing as a robot. Buffy's lips were actually pressed against Spike's, and at that moment he had to fight the urge to simply faint. 

Buffy then opened her mouth to his, her tongue brushing against the still sealed entrance to the frigid crypt of Spike's mouth. The vampire responded rather quickly however, immediately granting access to the young woman. The movements of his mouth began to match hers as his jaw worked against her upper and lower lips for a moment, able to feel her tongue as it brushed along either of his lips. 

The very instant that Buffy's tongue finally touched base with Spike's was the same time that the vampire finally realised why he allowed himself to be tortured by the Slayer's venom. Sweeter than any candy, more delectable than Swiss chocolate… God, did words even express what it felt like to own Buffy's mouth, to have her tongue playing Battleship with his for dominance over each other?

A hand, Spike's hand, worked up the courage to land beside one of her porcelain cheeks, resting in mid-air for a moment. Ever so gently, it floated closer, until finally waves of electricity exploded from the point at which his fingers touched the Slayer's skin. Unable to get enough of it, Spike moved a second palm to hold Buffy's other vacant cheek, soaring even higher the moment his skin made contact with hers. 

The spell lasted a few minutes longer. Buffy, occasionally allowing a groan to slip past her lips, allowed Spike's hands to roam her freely, not protesting when they dipped into regions she would never usually allow. Her own arms were clasped behind Spike's neck, her fingers gently stroking the cool skin she found there, even tugging at the collar of his duster once or twice. 

Buffy was the one to finally break the kiss, not surprised when Spike leaned closer to her, craving more of the ambrosia he had tasted for what seemed only an instant. Pressing her hands against the vampire's chest, Buffy stepped back so that the whole of her form was exposed to Spike, making his hunger for her all the more powerful. Deciding that she owed the vampire even the smallest taste of his favourite treat, Buffy held out both hands to him, allowing the vampire to grasp them tightly, but protesting when he requested more. 

Spike was dazed, the thoughts that had once caused him so much pain not even occurring anymore. All he could taste was the strawberry lip-gloss Buffy had applied, its sugary sensation almost as sweet as her natural flavour. Every pore on Spike's flesh was absorbing her living heat, unable to believe that she had been so close to him only a moment ago. They had been wrapped in a lover's embrace, and _God_, he wanted more. Instead, he was offered a consolation prize, allowed to hold Buffy's hands, understanding on some primitive level that she was about to say something, thus conjuring her need for physical distance from him. 

"Spike…" the third time Buffy had spoken, and still she had formed only one word. "I need you to listen to me". Noticing that the Slayer had actually formed a sentence, Spike glanced up, his eyes locking with hers. The serious gaze she gave him snapped the vampire out of his blissful state, though her hands helped to keep him comfortably numb. 

"Bad things… terrible things are going to happen to you here, Spike…" if it was his attention she required, Buffy now had it in truckloads. Spike didn't understand why she'd use those words to get his attention, but they seemed to work. 

The vampire chuckled slightly, his thumbs idly stroking Buffy's hands as he held them. "Tell me something I don't know, love. Of _course_ bad things are going to happen. They _always_ do" speaking what he thought to be simple facts of life, Spike remained ready to listen when Buffy's attitude didn't seem to change or lighten. 

"You don't understand, Spike…" it appeared as though Buffy had heard him without listening. She didn't know what he had said; she only knew that he hadn't taken her seriously. "You can't stop them. I can't stop them either. They're going to get you, they're going to torture you until there's nothing left of you but a broken slab of vampire meat" Spike wanted to cut in, perhaps toss around a not-so-Apocalyptical comment, but now didn't seem like the time. Listen now, ask questions later. 

"After a while you won't know who I am. It won't take long for them to break you, it never does. You'll be able to see me for a little while each day, but the rest of the time, you belong to them, and _him_" Spike was confused. Most of what Buffy said didn't make much sense to him, but he remembered every word of her mini-speech, guessing that he would figure it out soon enough. 

Breaking the tie at their hands, Buffy moved closer to Spike again, leaning up to plant a single kiss on his lips, one that was almost identical to what she had given him after Glory's torture. "Hold on to me, Spike, hold on to the things you love… You won't be able to do it forever, but _please_… _hold… on_"

Letting their embrace disintegrate and turning away from the vampire, Buffy left Spike in a cloud of puzzlement. All he could manage was a low yelp for her to come back, having so many questions about the riddle she had just laid out for him. Deep green silk stretched over Buffy's curves as she continued to walk away, appearing unable to hear Spike's calls. 

Falling to the ground when her presence was replaced by the same stereotypical nothingness, Spike was lost in his sea of confusion. What was Buffy talking about? Why had she kissed him like that? Where was he, and what did Buffy's instructions have to do with it? Couldn't he have just one _clear_ clue?

Screaming metal became apparent suddenly, the deafening cries of steel telling Spike that his explanation was probably on its way. Rotating on his bottom, the vampire turned to face a sight that wasn't nearly as pleasant as his first visitor had been. 

Buffy wasn't standing there, but Spike was hardly surprised. Somehow he doubted the fact that an appearance by the Slayer would be accompanied by the sounds of metal scraping against itself. Instead of a blonde beauty, Spike suddenly faced the sight of two massive metal gates opening before him, perfectly fitting into every horror movie cliché that existed. 

Waves of heat hammered into Spike as roaring flames unfolded before him. Chains rattled from far off, and the stench of rotting corpses was something incredibly repulsive to Spike's heightened senses. In gradual stages, everything Buffy had said became clearer. First of all, it appeared as if he was dead… oh yeah, Doc, scaffolding, portal, death. Damn. Now it seemed that Spike was about to take a trip into Hell…

Taking a deep breath, Spike stood up, not making any move to run. There was really no point in trying to hide from the inevitable. Being a vampire and all, it had always been obvious that this day would come; it was just a matter of time.

Hooking his fingers into the front loops of his jeans, Spike took a step back, fully encompassing the scene only yards away from him. Hell appeared to be waiting on the other side of the gate, an eternity of torture consumed by the never-ending inferno just begging to have a taste of his vampire hide. 

Unable to lose his classic cool, even before the domain of Satan himself, Spike transferred all of his weight onto one leg. Shifting his facial features into a rather smug appearance, the vampire simply stared into the dimension before him, knowing that someone, or some_thing_ was no doubt monitoring his every gesture. Making sure his feet were firmly planted, Spike took another breath as he stared defiantly into the gates, smirking at the last minute. 

"Come and get me"

(oo, I know, this might be a little confusing, but don't worry! _All_ will be explained in future chapters. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please review if you have a second, I LOVE feedback!)


	4. Death's a Bitch, But Hell's Worse

Spike had died that very day. Despite the heroic fashion in which Buffy and the others had carried him home, even though she had covered him with her mother's finest sheets, the vampire wasn't able to pull though. Offerings of warm pig's blood and gentle shakes from the Summers' women hadn't been enough to prevent Spike from disintegrating into shards of dust. 

Six months ago, William the Bloody had met his match. A hundred and twenty-seven years of existence were snuffed out in a matter of moments. All of it had been for the sake of the Slayer's kid sister, not to mention the rest of the world. 

Since then, things around Sunnydale had all but gotten quieter. For one thing, the vamp population was steadily growing without Hostile 17 around to do away with many of them. A new group of intelligent and powerful demons had rolled into town as well, motivating the Scoobies to reluctantly reactivate the Buffybot. 

After six months of struggling against new and relentless odds, Buffy had finally come to a decision. Whether she got help from her friends or not, the Slayer planned on making an attempt at resurrecting their leather-clad hero. No one in the group had protested much, apparently seeing where she was coming from. 

"Are you sure you want him back again? You know, with his whole 'we belong together' routine?" Xander had asked, indifferent as to whether they got him back or not, but unable to deny the strong points Buffy had brought up in Spike's favour. 

"Are you prepared to work through the consequences of bringing him back from what is surely a Hell dimension? Angel was gone only a few months, and he was quite… insane upon return" Giles had offered his educated opinion, wanting to support the needs of his Slayer, able to admit to himself that Spike's help was needed in more ways than one. 

"Well, I'm not even sure it would work, Buffy. Six months is a long time; Spike's life energy might be out of reach by now" Tara and Willow had contributed truthfully, speaking on their area of expertise. 

"I miss him" was all Dawn had said. Curled up, head in her knees, auburn strands of hair had cascaded against her back and around her arms. The vampire they spoke of had been almost like a brother to her, and had been willing to sacrifice himself for her sake in spite of a Hell God's form of torture. Bruised and broken, he had remained silent through the ordeal, never admitting to Glory where the true Key could be found. 

In the end, no one had been able to argue with Buffy's resolve. Not surprisingly, she had even been able to convince Willow and Tara into helping her with contacting the Powers That Be… surely the only ones who could help her with such an ordeal. Getting there was half the battle though; Buffy didn't doubt that the Powers wouldn't just _give_ her Spike back. This was surely going to be one of those things that was easier said than done. 

"Ready?" Willow said, taking a deep breath. 

"Ready" came the answer from Buffy, quickly followed by an affirmative answer from Tara. Sitting in a circle on the floor of Buffy's room around an assortment of conjuring herbs and candles of various colours, the three women took each other's hands. Willow had been the one to suggest they perform the ritual in Buffy's room; being in a place that was personal to the Slayer might help as a needed anchor to earth's dimension. Each woman took a deep breath, hoping to clear their minds of any infectious thoughts. Willow began chanting, Tara silently prayed, and Buffy sat quietly, allowing her thoughts to focus only on contacting the Powers That Be, and occasionally on Spike. Both subjects of thought, Tara had said, would be helpful in getting the Powers' attention. 

Hell. The word itself was a curse. In such a dimension, fire was like air; it consumed everything and was something that could never be escaped. Agonized screams erupted from the damned souls, so raw and desperate that they were able to pierce the consuming flames. Pain was inflicted on a daily basis for hours at a time, the physical sensation so terrible that it could never be described using the simplistic vocabulary of a human. 

And Spike was condemned to such an environment for eternity. 

Hanging by a pair of shackles suspended above his head, feet unable to touch any surface, Spike's naked form was at the disposal of whatever Hell beast was assigned to torture him. There were no limits to the damage that could be done to him… charring his skin, amputating a limb in the most horrid ways possible, slicing into his flesh with white-hot blades, or playing mental games with the vampire were all reasonable forms of torture.

Animalistic screams roared out of Spike's throat as the demons began peeling off a fifth layer of skin. From the demon's point of view, William the Bloody was yet another work of mutilated art. The arms hanging above his head were charred, having been slowly cooked, blistered, and burned until the flesh was black. Knives had sliced and sawed their way into Spike's legs, shards of glass pushed into the wounds, causing waterfalls of crimson to cascade down his limbs. The flesh on his back had been treated this way as well, only the lesions were stuffed with white-hot rods of metal rather than fragments of glass. Finally, of course, was the vampire's chest, each layer of skin hanging from his stomach like sheets of paper. Such injuries occurred on a daily basis for Spike, their damage sometimes able to make his current condition appear laughable.

Having peeled off the final layer of flesh from Spike's mangled body, the demon was now exposed to his muscular interior. Taking a firm hold on the muscle lining the left portion of Spike's chest, the monster began to pull at the sinewy fabric, soliciting blood-curdling screams from the vampire yet again. Shredding the blonde creature's muscle with its clawed hand, it wasn't long until the creature was staring at a seemingly dead and quite vulnerable heart. 

A wide grin painted itself across the fiend's yellow-fleshed face as it conjured a wooden stake, the weapon appearing where there had been only flames a moment before. "You want it, don't you, vampire?" the creature seethed, speaking in its incomprehensible native tongue. Then again, it didn't matter what language the _thing_ used… Spike wouldn't have understood anyway. After what already felt like an eternity in Hell, the vampire had been unable to hold on to his sense of self, losing every shard of humanity that he once possessed. Only screams and growls could be formed by his permanently scarred vocal chords, his thoughts consisting of instinctive impulses rather than words and emotion. According to himself, Spike didn't even have a name. 

Chuckling slightly as the only response he was given was a hating look from a pair of cerulean orbs, the demon nodded, raising his oversized splinter to the crater in Spike's chest. "Then you may have it, vampire _filth_," he said, pressing his stake against the ruby jewel that was once a purely human heart. Wood and organ flesh became one as Satan's henchman drove the needle through Spike's heart, watching as his mutilated form disintegrated into nothing more than a pile of ashes. 

Every day, the same dusty ending came to a torture that would last forever. 

Only moments after dissolving into ashen remains, Spike was jolted to consciousness by the shock of having a cool, moist liquid dribbled over his mangled chest. Staring straight up, the vampire appeared to be lying face up, his back resting on a rather cushioned surface, surrounded by the same black void he had once started out in. Suffering in the midst of a firestorm only moments earlier, the cool liquid had been an unwelcome shock. 

Tensing suddenly, gasps escaping from his lungs at a hurried pace as he was swathed in the fluid once again, Spike didn't understand what was going on. Eyes flickering frantically to his right, the vampire was stunned when he came face to face with the most radiant object his azure orbs had ever grazed. 

Female of course, lengths of blonde hair tickled her porcelain visage, ending in a cascade that surrounded petite shoulders. Emerald eyes that not even the stars could compete with pierced Spike's raging crystals, a tenderness in them that was otherwise alien to the vampire. Those features were only the beginning of what made Spike's heart shift from its usually crazed state to a calmed ocean of peace. Now he remembered this creature. It was his angel… the one who came to him after his daily execution… the one who could tame the raging catacombs of his visceral mind and heart. 

Buffy was sitting there, surrounded by a blackness that only made the glow of her skin more apparent. Ivory lengths of fabric wrapped around her curves in a modest fashion, their hue almost matching the creamy sheets of the bed she was currently sharing with Spike. Kneeling close to the vampire, Buffy was accompanied by a glass bowl filled almost to the brim with water. 

Muscles clenching furiously as another waterfall cascaded out of his angel's yellow sponge, the vampire couldn't tell if he was supposed to be feeling pain or pleasure. The nerve endings on his stomach and chest were sending him mixed signals. One moment, they cried out in bliss, having never experienced such a wonderful sensation. Only seconds later though, the pain was almost unbearable. 

"Shhh…" came Buffy's honey-coated voice as she saw the vampire tighten. That alone was enough to calm Spike, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. But the Slayer wanted to offer him just a bit more. Reaching out as she reloaded her sponge with supernatural hydrogen, Buffy let her vampire patient take a firm hold on her hand, knowing he could perhaps use the physical contact as another form of comfort. 

Rugged flesh made contact with creamy skin, and Spike could only vaguely remember the time he had felt so secure. In all reality, his last session with the Slayer had been only a day ago, but it seemed like an eternity. Spike sighed against the pillow he was suddenly aware of, completely at ease in the company of his angel. 

A voice as gentle as the wind was there when his muscles flexed, not expecting the puddle of liquid that came his way; gentle pressure was returned to his clenching hand when the icy fluid again surprised him. Most blatant of course was the mystical water itself; although its appearance was surprising to his skin at first contact, Spike had come to realise and appreciate its healing powers. 

Between the highly cushioned bed, the presence of his guardian, and her healing potion, Spike knew somewhere in his mind that he had been offered just a small slice of Heaven. 

Perhaps an hour later, the healing process had come to what Buffy saw as a perfect finish. Every wound on her patient's body had been healed by the caress of her tonic against his skin. Throwing her bowl over the bed, casting it into oblivion, Buffy knew it was impossible for the glass container to shatter on a floor that didn't exist. 

Spike was lying on his stomach at the moment, but after carefully shifting herself and the vampire, it wasn't long before Buffy was sitting against the wooden headboard, the upper half of Spike's still naked body resting in her lap as he lay on his right side. Gently stroking back his sweat-moistened hair, Buffy's hands roamed to the other reachable regions on his body, occasionally making time to plant a kiss on the top of his lightning-hued cranium. 

During the time spent in his saviour's lap, Spike's eyes remained shielded from the nothingness that surrounded him. Though his body shivered, used to the magma-heated temperatures of Hell, the vampire maintained his feeling of complete relaxation. If his heart needed to beat, it would contract no more than fifty times a minute in such a state. Taking in Buffy's scent, causing unneeded breaths each time, the vampire would be perfectly content to remain in such a void for all eternity. 

Sadly though, all good things were created to die. 

From a far off region, chains could now be heard slinking toward the blonde pair of beings, each of them having been totally at ease only a moment before. Metal sliced and screamed into itself, and though the sounds were mere echoes for now, Buffy knew it didn't take long for them to find him. Time was of the essence. 

Vampire hearing had already picked up the wretched sounds, causing every one of Spike's now healed muscles to tense immediately. In a world of such peace, even his broken mind could understand that such a distasteful clamour could not be a good thing. Curling deeper into his angel's lap, Spike's grip on her right hand tightened, his other limb holding her by the waist. 

"Shh… it's okay Spike. It's okay… I'm here… I'm here… Shhh" her words trickled into his ears, the once sugary sound now slightly frightened. Buffy draped herself over the portion of his body that was in her lap, the Slayer's powerful left arm holding him around the front of his waist, very similar to the death grip he had on her. Gently, she rocked Spike back and forth on the bed's cushioned surface, attempting to drown out the horrid sounds that were constantly drawing nearer. 

Hearing Spike give what could surely be classified as a terrified whimper, his form pressing farther into her, the Slayer continued her verbal assurance. "It's all right, Spike, it's okay…" she said, pausing to kiss the patch of his skin that was most readily available. "I'm here Spike… everything will be okay… I'll always be here for you Spike… I'll always be here to make things right…" her voice still soft, Buffy pulled out of the embrace enough to see his face. 

Tears had welled at the edge of Spike's eyes, the vampire terrified of the reverberations that were quickly becoming deafening. Elbow resting against the upper half of his arm, Buffy smoothed the left side of Spike's already slick hair, bending closer to press a kiss against his temple and cheek. Leaning her right cheek against his left one, the Slayer simply remained in that position, the arm that was not used to hold his hand now clasped around the vampire's shoulders. The tempo of their rocking motion refused to alter despite all of Buffy's motions, and her comforting words never took a break. 

It wasn't long before the somewhat calm bubble of the spontaneously created bed was viciously deflated. Feeling Spike jolt beneath her, Buffy knew that some hideous creature had no doubt grabbed his legs. The presence of his form deflated beneath her, and Buffy quickly looked up, watching as Spike was towed, kicking and screaming into a pair of now gaping metal gates that lead to the dimension that truly owned him. Clawing at dead air, his throat already becoming raw from screaming, the last thing Spike saw before being surrounded by flames was the face of his saviour, her eyes filled with remorse. 

Within seconds, the Slayer was completely alone on a bed in the middle of nowhere, knowing that the next time she came in contact with Spike, he would again be unaware of who she was, his mind easily destroyed by hours of ruthless torture. Burned into the back of Buffy's mind was the utterly terrified expression that Spike pierced her with every day as he was dragged away from her by some fire-fisted demon. _Someday…_ Buffy thought as she heard the metal fortress finally close before her …_Someday I'll save him. Someday I'll be able to stop those creatures. Someday, Spike will be free…_

Ahh! I know! Evil, EVIL cliffhanger! Honestly, I would have really liked to continue this chapter, but I'm not sure just yet how long Buffy's encounter with the Powers will be, which means that this chapter could go from being nearly four pages long to six or eight pages long. Anyways, as always, I LOVE reviews, so send 'em my way hehehe (please and thank you). I promise that the next update won't take as long this time! (I've already got chapter five half done… so you do the math hehe) 

I'd just like to take a second and say a huge thank you to my beta reader, Renee. You're the bestest! 


	5. The Powers That Be

Beginning to feel a little light-headed, perhaps from the mystical energy being conjured in her bedroom, Buffy hoped that if the Powers were going to reply, they would do it soon. Reality's already delicate fabric was becoming more and more difficult for the Slayer to hold on to with each of Willow's chanted words, and Tara's every whispered prayer. Fighting the urge to faint, Buffy continued thinking only of Spike and the Powers That Be, wondering how she would know that the Powers had heard her. 

"Miss Summers?" a friendly male voice came from behind her. Opening eyes she didn't know had been shut, Buffy was surprised to find herself not in the comfort of her bedroom, but what appeared to be a waiting room of some sort. Five burgundy chairs were pushed against the yellow wall directly in front of her, and on each side of her was a silver-knobbed doorway. Suggesting to herself that she might possess some sort of body, Buffy attempted to turn toward the voice, and was successful in her short endeavour. 

Staring back at her was the smiling face of a young man, perhaps in his early twenties. Short, dark hair, hazel eyes, and well-set cheekbones were his most prominent features. Even in a chair, Buffy could tell he wasn't the tallest of creatures, but he was lean and looked as if he could handle himself well in any situation. "Welcome Miss Summers" his smile didn't broaden, but it didn't fade in the least, either. "Sorry for the delay, but we had to run what you might call a background check on you before deciding whether or not to answer your call. Of course, when the word 'Slayer' came up, all other questions were quickly dismissed" he finished, still smiling. 

Buffy had wanted to interrupt the man, but his politeness had convinced her to wait until he was finished speaking. Taking a deep breath, she looked around at the petite, buttery-coloured room before turning her attention back to the clerk. "Um, I didn't accidentally summon Psych-help Incorporated, did I? Even Doctors-R-Us?" the Slayer's voice was soft, her eyebrows rising as she spoke. 

Realising how confused the girl must have been, the man's smile changed from welcoming to understanding as he gave a soft chuckle. "Oh, Goddess, no. Do not worry, Miss Summers. You asked for the Powers That Be, and you are getting exactly that," he said with a nod. "We just thought that this type of environment would be more fitting for you" the man finished, business-like smile still pasted to his features. 

Glancing at his wristwatch, the man closed his appointment book, folded his hands together and glanced at the still-adjusting Slayer. Temporarily distracted, when Buffy looked back to her welcoming committee his face was of a sobering nature. Eighty-pound weights plunged within Buffy, and she was suddenly grounded to the setting. "They are ready for you now, Miss Summers" leaving out further explanation, a suited arm was waved at the door to Buffy's right, its silver handle beckoning her. 

Pulling on an elongated breath, Buffy approached the door, clasping the generic knob with almost trembling fingers. Turning the spherical object, Buffy finally worked up enough courage to push open the maple-coated door, revealing a setting that was all but the sterile white she had expected. 

The room she walked into was coated in deep forest green, cream-coloured carpet becoming apparent beneath her heeled shoes. Paintings by Monet and other landscape artists decorated the windowless walls, hung there for Buffy's pleasure, she guessed. In front of her was a cushioned, all-black chair, small enough that she could see the two beings seated in more luxurious types of furniture. 

The woman was resting in a pristine white armchair, her full-length robe being of the same hue. Tight crimson curls were pushed back with a silver headband, exposing all of her visage and neck. Blue eyes were set below a perfectly shaped forehead, giving way to exquisite cheeks, petite and naturally ruby lips, and a chin that complimented her other features. Approximately Buffy's size and shape, the woman appeared young, yet wisdom seemed to pour from her very presence. 

A man sat to her right, relaxing in an armchair that was of the same style as his colleague's but draped in a midnight-blue material instead of white. Mahogany hair was styled in a manner that reminded her of the way Riley's had looked during the latter half of her relationship with him. Piercing emerald eyes dug burrows into Buffy's soul, the man's strong, almost square features giving him a look of complete power. Dark, full eyebrows hung above pronounced cheekbones, centered by a pair of thin but sensual-looking lips that dangled over his not-too-large chin. 

Needless to say, Buffy was beyond intimidated. 

"Welcome, Slayer. Please… have a seat" the woman spoke first, her soft voice filling Buffy's ears and mind simultaneously. Glancing at the black chair before her, Buffy quickly got the hint, scooting around and plopping herself in the cushioned structure. Smoothing out her baby-blue tank top and pushing at her long, golden locks, the Chosen One looked between either of the entities, not knowing what to make of the situation. Attempting internally to slow her nervous heart, Buffy didn't notice that she had already begun picking at the seams of her black jeans. 

"We are the Powers That Be, as you may have assumed" their voices were concurrent, perfectly synchronized with each other. Despite her nervousness, Buffy couldn't help but admire how the male's deeper voice complimented his associate's gentle yet wise intonation. "I am Orotus" the masculine spoke first, folding his hands together as he did so. "You may call me Tarella," said the female, her right hand on its armrest, the other sitting delicately in her lap. 

Finally taking notice of the fact that she was tearing away at her jeans, Buffy quickly stuffed her hands beneath either leg, gulping back a nervous breath. "Orotus…" she said, nodding to the male. "Tarella…" greeting the female with a nod as well, Buffy had trouble deciding which of the two entities she should focus her attention on. "So, you're the Big Kahuna's, huh? I mean, you're _the _Powers?" her voice was soft, exposing the intimidation running through her cold veins. 

Although Orotus' face remained neutral, Tarella laughed softly at the girl's vocabulary. "That is correct. We are the Powers That Be; the keepers of time, space, and life energy" breaking away from the influence her partner's voice, Tarella was the only one to speak this time. 

Orotus had been checking their Chosen One for any visual flaws before he spoke up, breaking a temporary vow of silence that had fallen across the Powers and their nervous visitor. "Tarella and I had a chance to read your mind and soul before you arrived. Is it true that your journey here concerns the request to resurrect a _vampire_?" the male was frowning slightly now, obviously confused as to why a _Slayer_ would wish for the re-birth of a vampire. 

Of course, Buffy was only slightly surprised that the Powers had been able to read her mind. After all, she _had_ been meditating about the vampire only moments before walking into the makeshift waiting room. "Well, technically…" she tried desperately to think of a more delicate way to put it, and failed horribly. "Yeah," Buffy said, giving up quickly on the need for excuses. "That's… why I came here."

"Ah…" Orotus nodded in a comprehensive manner, though he was still utterly curious about the Slayer's motivation and intentions. Hearing her colleague's thoughts, Tarella posed such a question to the young girl sitting before her. "Buffy… It would be of very little inconvenience for Orotus and I to force our way into your thoughts. However, we prefer to simply ask you for the information we require. That way, we know you are being true not only to us, but to yourself as well" Tarella fell silent, giving the Slayer a moment to process her words. 

Buffy considered the Power's statement for a moment, and decided that everything she thought about Spike could be easily put forth in this setting. These creatures were not her friends; Buffy had no need to be modest before the Powers That Be because they would know the truth anyway. Realizing that her gaze had fallen to the floor, she quickly made facial contact with both Powers, and noticed they were staring at her in a rather comprehensive manner, as if every one of her thoughts had simply been spoken aloud. "Fair enough…" she said finally, taking mental guesses at the types of things she would be asked. 

"First…" a rather booming voice wafted toward Buffy, and her eyesight was quickly trained to the male seated before her. "What exactly is the nature of your relationship with the subject?" the Slayer was confused for a moment, taking time to realise that 'the subject' was actually Spike. 

"It's sort of complicated…" she began, eyes narrowing minutely as she spoke. "Spike… he's what you might call our friendly enemy. He kinda helps out with Scooby stuff once in a while… that's actually how he died…" Buffy paused for a moment, remembering the painful look of peace spread over Spike's face after his fall. Judging from the silent nature of the Powers, they had no questions about the term 'Scooby' or anything else in Buffy's speech, so she continued. "No one in the group is really fond of him I guess… he usually only makes a point of talking to me or Dawn. If he talks to anyone else, it's mostly just because he has to." 

"I see…" Orotus glanced at his colleague after speaking, removing his intent gaze from Buffy for a moment. Each of them knew there was a missing piece to the puzzle of Spike's relationship with the Slayer; it was simply a matter of asking the right question. "Why does the vampire assist you in battling against the forces of darkness, when _he_ is a part of such an army?" the Power knew if that the Slayer were honest, he and Tarella would receive the answer they sought. 

Sitting straighter in her chair, Buffy was glad to have a no-brain type of question. "Well, Spike was one of the few vamps unlucky enough to have a chip implanted in his brain. Basically, he helps us because it's his only way of killing things. Not to mention the fact that he loves…" her voice cut out at that instant. Buffy couldn't recall the last time she had actually _admitted_ the fact that Spike loved her _aloud_. Looking between the Powers and deciding that she had no other choice, Buffy swallowed before continuing. "He loves me" it took an entire breath to expel the simple sentence, and Buffy's eyes glazed over for a moment as she thought out her three words. 

Satisfied by the response she had given this time, Orotus leaned back into his chair, formal position lost for a moment. Glancing to his comrade, the male Power waved his hand dismissively, obviously welcoming her to pose the next question. Fixing his gaze once more on the Slayer, Orotus gave Buffy the feeling that he wasn't looking at her, but _through_ her, a sensation that sent a wave of shivers down her spine. 

In such a setting, it was impossible for the Slayer to possess a single secret. 

For once thankful that a voice was filling the silent void, Buffy focused her attention on Tarella, listening intently to the next query. "We now know quite well how the vampire feels about you, Slayer. I am curious though… how do _you_ feel about _him_?" although the question was going to be somewhat difficult for Buffy to answer, she was glad that it resonated from Tarella's soft voice, rather than the intimidating one belonging to Orotus. 

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it a moment later. Repeating the motion twice again, she was finally ready to answer. "It's hard to explain. I know that I don't… didn't… love him. Sometimes he annoyed me to the point where I was ready and willing to drive a steak through his heart" as Buffy spoke, she remembered such incidences, and her voice became slightly hostile. Then of course came the memories of times in which Spike had sacrificed himself for her and Dawn's sake. "Then again…" she said for the Powers' benefit. "Spike also did a lot of things that I never thanked him for. He let Glory beat the Hell out of him without confessing where to find Dawn… Not to mention the fact that he was killed while saving my sister, thus ending yet another apocalypse in the meantime" Buffy sighed, realising how easily the words came to her now. 

Tarella nodded, as if pleased with the Slayer's answer. "So you care for him?" she inquired, soliciting a more interested stare from Orotus. 

"More or less" she shrugged almost, eyebrows rising with the motion. "I mean, I can't say that I _don't_ care for him, because I wouldn't be here if I didn't…" sensing that her words would conjure another question from the Powers, Buffy simply held her position, remaining silent. 

"Ah yes, of course…" Orotus gave a slight grin, suddenly becoming vocal again as he sat forward in his chair. "We still have not asked exactly _why_ you wish to have the vampire returned," he said almost cockily, as if his question could change the fate of the world. "Why, exactly, do you want the vampire back?" the male's eyes were narrowed slightly, as if threatening to not grant Buffy's wish should even a syllable of her response be inadequate. 

Taking a breath, Buffy ran over the different reasons in her mind before even opening her mouth. "Well, there's the obvious… life as a Slayer in Sunnydale has become a little more… difficult without him around. Spike used to do a quick nightly patrol, dusting the odd vamp along the way. It didn't seem like much, but now that we're having a hard enough time with demons, the vampire population is becoming more difficult to handle, Buffybot or no Buffybot…" as with the term 'Scoobies', Buffy paused when she mentioned her robotic self, hoping the Powers wouldn't ask her to explain. 

When no questions were asked of her, Buffy continued, but only briefly. "Basically, we need Spike back in the group, and that's all there is to it" sighing as she finished, Buffy was still confused as to who she should focus her attention on. Each entity demanded an equal amount of consideration, and the Slayer was trying her best to satisfy such a need. 

"It is quite obvious that this one called Spike is a valuable member of your tactical team…" the male's voice found its way into Buffy's consciousness, and she gave a slight nod in response. The Slayer's senses were then infiltrated by a sound made up of Orotus and Tarella's voices. "What about personal influences? Surely you did not seek us only because you need the vampire for his combat abilities…" they were confident in speaking, obviously aware that Buffy had been driven to them for reasons concerning the heart, and not only her situation as the Slayer. 

Considering their query for a moment, it didn't take long before Buffy had allowed herself to sink back in the chair provided. "Alright," she sighed. "You caught me…" shaking her head slowly, Buffy leaned forward only partially, the small of her back still glued to the chair. "The truth is, I _do_ miss Spike. It's not like I go to bed at night crying because I want him back, but no matter how annoying he could get, it was nice having him around… at times. I could talk to him in a way that I sometimes couldn't talk to my friends. He'd listen without judging… Dawn misses him too, and that means something to me…" noticing the almost blank gazes she was getting from Orotus and Tarella, Buffy sighed lightly. "Did I mention that he saved my life and Dawn's on occasion, not to mention the whole world?"

Orotus nodded. "Yes, I believe you said something of the sort."

As if she hadn't even heard the male speak, Buffy continued her complex answer. "I guess I just feel like I owe him something. With him being dead and all, the only way I can really repay him is by trying to… bring him back" sighing lightly, Buffy finally resigned from her barrage of reasoning, sinking into the chair again, gaze fixed on nothing in particular. 

"_What is your opinion on the situation?_" Orotus communicated in a telepathic manner with the other Power. 

"_The girl has made somewhat of a point. We did not intend for William to be executed so soon. He was supposed to have many years ahead of him_" Tarella responded, partially wanting to aid the Slayer's wishes. 

"_Indeed… I notice that you seem to be leaning toward granting the girl's request. Tell me, Tarella, what sort of sacrifice do you have in mind?_" Orotus was now focused on his fellow Power, drawing her attention to him, therefore leaving the Slayer hanging. 

"_Oh, please, Orotus. Must you be so heartless? We have already demanded so much of this girl, and she has taken it with good spirits. She is the Slayer after all, the one whom **we** chose as the protector of mankind. Do we not owe her this one helping hand?_" seeing that her comrade was not budging from his opposing position, Tarella offered a helpful piece of information. "_Think of this, Orotus. Spike… William… has been in Hell for countless centuries by now… just try to imagine the mental insanity he will suffer from upon return…_" she paused, allowing the impact of her statement to sink in. "_If it will put you more at ease, do not forget that we have the power to stop the vampire from receiving his visitor… Even if he were returned in two earth days, it will have been more than long enough for him to be complete and utterly broken, every notion and slight memory of tenderness driven out of him._"

Orotus sat in absolute silence for a moment, considering Tarella's proposal. After a brief period of debating with himself, the Power turned back to his partner, nodding. "_Very well… you may grant the girl's wish under such conditions. Three earth days_" he said simply, obviously wanting some control in the decision. Making a mental handshake with Tarella, Orotus sank into his chair again, waiting for the female to explain their verdict. 

"Slayer…" the radiant beauty began, orbs falling softly upon her visitor. "We have decided in your favour. The vampire will be returned to you in three of your days." 

Buffy concealed most of the relieved happiness that washed over her, fiddling with her hands as she spoke. "Um, well… I don't really know what to say… Thank you?" 

Tarella's features remained slightly concerned, and the Slayer was quick to focus her attention once more. "However…" she continued, not bothering to acknowledge Buffy's thanks just yet. "You do understand that Spike will not be as you remember him…" knowing that a vampire had already been returned to the Slayer once before, Tarella thought it necessary to elaborate. "Angelus was returned to earth after only two, perhaps three of your months. As you could tell, he was able to maintain a shred of his humanity. With or without the daily work of his saviour, Spike has been reduced to nothing more than an animal in human flesh" the Power's voice was almost dark, as if she were attempting to change the Slayer's mind. 

Frowning as Tarella spoke of some saviour, Buffy was more intrigued by that statement than she was of Spike's now visceral nature. "Uh… sorry, but… what do you mean by 'the daily work of his _saviour_'? Isn't the main purpose of Hell to _torture_ people?" the Slayer's expression was puzzled as she even dared a questioning glance at Orotus. 

"Indeed" the female answered, gracefully nodding. "But Spike is what you might call a 'special case'… Despite the fact that his motivations were mainly due to his inability to attack humans, the vampire was able to change his ways in favour of our cause. Near the end, most of his actions were done for a more personal reason. Love. For you" unafraid to throw the Slayer's fears of Spike's love in her face, Tarella continued her answer of Buffy's question. "In return, we made it possible for Spike to be visited once a day by what could be called an angel… Using the image of what he loved most, Orotus and I gave Spike a chance for his wounds to be healed while in the comfort of his angel. It did not stop Lucifer from torturing the humanity out of him, but it helped nonetheless… Of course, as you may have already guessed, it was _your_ image that we used" finishing with a soft smile, Tarella pushed back a stray lock of hair, giving the Slayer a chance to absorb the offered information. 

While listening to Tarella's explanation, Buffy's face had contorted into a number of different designs. First, she had been interested, wanting to understand the concept of a 'daily saviour'. Deeper into the explanation, apprehension had crossed over her usually courageous features, beginning to understand where Tarella was heading. Finally, Buffy's face was twisted into an almost nauseated heap. For so long, she had been able to deny Spike's love, to believe that he was only fooling himself. But when the all-seeing, all-knowing, almighty Powers That Be confessed to such a crime, it could no longer be avoided. __

_Spike is really in love with me…? _Buffy thought silently, gaze flickering upward every so often. _Spike **really** is in love with me._ Buffy was astounded that her dread was infected by a small dose of pride at such a thought, the arcane catacombs of her heart rewarded by the fact that she had been someone's _saviour_, the object of their deepest affection. Managing to make eye contact with either Power for only a lingering second, Buffy managed a weak "Oh", attempting to appear as casual as possible. Then again, before such supreme beings, secrets were impossible; and somehow, Buffy just couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. 

"I believe that should be enough to conclude this… session. Your vampire will be returned three days from now, though the exact location of his arrival is impossible to coordinate" Orotus spoke without sensitivity to the obviously stunned Slayer. "Do you accept these conditions Miss Summers?" 

Thrown back to reality by the deep, powerful voice of Orotus, Buffy gave an involuntary nod. "Yeah. Of course. I mean, if you can cure _one_ Hell beast you can cure them all, right?" she laughed softly, eyebrows flying high with optimism. Standing, Buffy smoothed out her slightly rumpled clothing. "I guess I should say thanks again, so… Thank you…"

Tarella and Orotus both nodded. "Farewell Buffy Summers, and Good luck…" was all they said, secretly telling themselves that the Slayer would need every ounce of it she could muster. With that, Tarella quickly swept her hand through the air, and Buffy felt the floor instantly disappear from beneath her. 

Falling through what seemed like an endless tunnel, the Slayer's essence was suddenly dropped back into her material form. Opening eyelids that actually belonged to her, relief washed over Buffy as she saw Willow and Tara, both girls obviously meditating. "Hey…" she said lightly, startling both of the Wicca lovers.

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed as a smile rippled across her creamy visage. "You're back!" she suddenly frowned "I mean… did you go anywhere?" changing facial expressions quite quickly, the red-haired girl ended with a look of hope bordering on disappointment. 

"A happy affirmative to both questions" Buffy smiled back, noticing the beautiful texture of aromas that Willow's herbs had conjured in her bedroom. 

"How did it go?" Tara was equally joyous to have her friend return, though her method of expressing emotions was more modest in nature. 

"I'm not sure…" seeing the instantly disappointed looks she got, Buffy quickly changed her pace. "I mean, we got him back… We got Spike back… But things were just a little weird while I was there" she said with a shrug. 

"Weird?" Willow inquired, her frown now more apparent. 

"Well, not a 'demons are messing with my head' kind of weird… More like an 'I'm sitting in front of the Powers That Be… the all-powerful Powers That Be' kind of weird. Definitely a 10.5 on the wiggins scale" she said with a slight laugh, looking between the two girls. 

"So what do we do now?" after sharing in Buffy's chuckle, Willow became focused on their objective once again, curious about what orders Buffy had been given. 

"Now…" the blonde girl said with a sigh. "As usual, we wait… Three days, and our bleached friend is returned" she smiled. "I'll explain everything at the next Scooby meeting" assuring her comrades that they would not be left in the dark, Buffy got to work cleaning up the magical supplies. 

Within twenty minutes of her return to earth, Buffy was standing behind her now closed front door, having sent her friends home in a desperate need for sleep. Not only was the actual ritual exhausting, but also much of the knowledge she had gained was mentally draining. The memory that Spike had in fact truly loved her was still with Buffy, but the satisfaction she initially had felt was now buried beneath a heap of miscellaneous thoughts and emotions, condemned to an unnoticed death. 

Sighing as she simply floated to the surface of her bed, Buffy couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of being drowned in the number of sensuous fragrances that surrounded her. Jasmine and lavender danced with other unknown scents, allowing the Slayer to drift into a dreamless sleep. When she woke up, the countdown to Spike's triumphant return from Hell will have already begun.

(Hey everyone, I know that for some of you die-hard fans, my information about how long Angel was in Hell probably seemed a little off. We all know that the season two finale was in May, and the season three premier was in September, which means that he would have been gone for four months, not two or three. The reason I said that he was gone for a shorter time was because I assumed that since it was the end of school when Acathala was opened, it must have been June. It was the start of school when 'Anne' aired, meaning that it was September… you do the math, hehe. Anyways, I'd better get started on chapter six now, eh?)


	6. The Hunt is On

Placing a fairly short yet more than deadly sword in her canvas bag, Buffy slid the zipper shut, glancing up at her already prepared friends. Morphing her features into a militant nature, she began rattling off the procedure. "All right. Does everyone understand _exactly_ what they're supposed to do?" her voice was tight, almost stressed. At first, the thought of having Spike back was relieving, but after explaining the situation to the Scoobies, and waiting the required three days, tension had begun to build in her system, popping up every now and then.  

When her friends tossed out looks that said 'I'm pretty sure I know, but I'm not _totally_ sure', Buffy's head dropped. Skimming over everything she had planned, the Slayer quickly picked her eyes up again, making contact with each of her friends. First, she would explain procedure, then she would go back over the rules. "All right…" focusing upon Xander and Anya first, Buffy's tone remained orderly. 

"Xander and Anya, I want you guys to stay in town" upon seeing the questioning look on the carpenter's face, Buffy cut him off before he could begin. "I don't want you guys getting stuck in the woods with no way to defend yourselves except weapons. We don't know what to expect from Spike, and it's best if you're in a crowded area when you find him" her gaze held its caring yet serious mask as she spoke. 

Waiting only a split second before turning to the pair of witches, Buffy assigned the next group. "Willow, Tara, you guys sweep the cemeteries. Be extra thorough in the one where Spike's crypt used to be but check every one carefully". Both sorceresses nodded and the Slayer did so as well, allowing the smallest of smiles to caress her features. 

Sighing as she finally faced her Watcher, Buffy's arms were crossed by now. "Giles, you and Dawn are coming with me" she turned more toward her friends at this point, her next words being partially for their benefit as well. "We'll search the forest, check out the other less-populated areas where you guys won't be going". 

Everyone's heads dipped in compliance, understanding their tasks perfectly. Still not finished, Buffy continued briefing her troops after another concerned sigh. "Remember: we don't know how Spike will react. There's a chance that he'll be as harmless as Mary Poppins, but for now we're going to assume that he's completely insane. So that means we're dealing with a mindless vampire who happens to be missing a certain government chip. Understand?" she said seriously, casting a look around the group. 

Each Scooby member nodded in comprehension. Although Spike had turned to dust on the sheets of Joyce's bed, ashes tossed ceremoniously into the wind afterward, his chip implant had somehow survived the process. Of course, now that the group needed it more than ever, the plastic device was sitting in Spike's duster, the leather article of clothing hidden within the depths of Buffy's closet. 

"So what you're saying is…" Xander clarified for everyone. "At the first sign of trouble we either run like Hell, shoot him with the tranquilizer gun, or cast a spell" referring with his hands to each group and their particular form of protection, the carpenter was satisfied with the Slayer's nod and gave a proud smile. 

"Right. Don't forget: meet back at my house before dawn. Now is everyone ready?" the Slayer's most intimate friends took hold of their particular weaponry and set a determined gaze upon their female hero. Thanking them with a silenced smile, Buffy seized the handles on her duffle bag and paused only a moment to collect herself. Glancing at her long-time friend and fated Watcher, the Slayer instantly turned her attention to reaching the Magic Box's front door, her friends falling into pace beside and behind her. Each humanoid wore a look of slightly frightened courage, the whites of some knuckles already beginning to show. It was one thing to tame a soul-bearing Angelus, it was quite another to attempt controlling a tortured, insane, natural-born killer by the name of William the Bloody. 

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Except for the fact that every out-of-the-ordinary sound had the ability to make her jump, Buffy's night had been relatively slow. Not a single rogue vampire or easily disposed demon. Chipmunks and squirrels seemed the only variety of non-human life roaming the forest that evening. 

Silence made Dawn nervous, it tingled the back of Giles' spine but kept him thoroughly curious, and held Buffy in an overall alert state. The Slayer was somewhat nervous with having her little sister tag along on patrol, but for some reason, leaving Dawn at home alone, or even sending her to a friends' house just didn't seem like the most responsible idea. 

"How you guys doing?" she asked absent-mindedly, needing _something_ to fill the endless and shadowed void surrounding her trio. 

Dawn glanced to Giles for some form of direction, but found only a solemn, focused stare. "Um, okay…" her voice slithered nervously out, ending up as a resonation not much stronger than the average whisper. 

"Giles, have we looked up there yet?" Buffy seemed to ignore her sister's response upon being unable to ignore the appearance of a rather large hill not far in the distance. They had been searching for perhaps two hours already, and the closest they had come to success in capturing anyone was when they had accidentally stalked someone for twenty minutes, not realising that he was only out for a midnight stroll. In the end, Buffy had _insisted_ that the man's hair had been _blonde_, not red. 

Stopping in his tracks, Giles turned around as a way of orienting himself, seeking out various landmarks. When his vision was trained upon the hilltop once more, a small shaking of his head occurred. "No, I… I don't believe so. We came from… that direction," he pointed behind and to the left of them. "So we couldn't have". 

"Nope, haven't been there yet. I would have known if we had been by Crazy Adam's" Dawn supplied, receiving an odd stare from each of her comrades. "Long story… there was a snowboard and some apple pie involved," she added, failing to erase the confused looks she was getting. 

Snapping out of her distracted thought process, the Slayer was able to look back at Giles without thinking of apple pie. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" re-adjusting the shoulder strap on her tranquilizer gun, Buffy turned toward the hill. Whether they found Spike at it's peak or not, the mound of earth would definitely be an excellent vantage point. 

Their trek was neither long nor difficult. Within seconds it seemed, they were floating atop the sea that was Sunnydale, on a deserted island amidst the oceanic city built on one of earth's few Hellmouths. And yet, despite the promise of having her only vampire colleague returned to her, Buffy was able to find absolutely nothing of interest that couldn't have been found at the hill's base. "Well, that was pointless" she said without her usually stealthy tone of silence. 

Turning to her sister and Watcher, the Slayer's eyes bore a tone of angered disappointment. "I mean, who am I kidding? This whole _thing_ is pointless! _How_ are we _ever_ going to find Spike? Even if he actually _does_ come back, there's a _thousand_ places he could be!" she sighed in exasperation, throwing her hands partially upward with her words. "We're never going to find him…" shaking her head, Buffy took an impromptu seat as she flopped to the earth, sighing with exasperation.

"Now Buffy, don't be so hard on yourself. If worst comes to worst, we can always have Tara or Willow perform some kind of locating spell" Giles said comfortingly, knowing that it didn't take much to lower Buffy's spirits. "We simply have to keep looking. Spike will turn up tonight… it's simply a matter of where and when" he said, maintaining a soft, optimistic smile. 

"Giles is right" Dawn added. "We'll never find Spike if we just hang around here" when her sister didn't make any sort of reaction, Dawn thumped her heel against the ground. "Besides… Spike is gonna need us. We can't just leave him out there" her eyes roamed the forest as she spoke, wondering what chances the blonde vampire would have in the somewhat dangerous environment. 

Listening to the words of her Watcher and sister, Buffy could feel some of her energy returning. Looking up to either of them, wondering how she had come to be on the ground in the first place, Buffy nodded. "Okay," she said, beginning to haul herself upward. "But I definitely think we need a new plan. This whole going-through-the-bush-blindly thing really isn't working," she said convincingly, hoping Giles would have a suggestion. 

As if he had read her mind, the older English man spoke up. "Well, may I suggest that we simply stay here for a while? It is very likely that Spike will arrive by means of a portal, and from this viewpoint, we'll no doubt be able to see it" he offered, noticing with the other girls that almost every inch of Sunnydale's forest could be seen from the hill's summit. 

Taking only seconds to decide in favour of Giles' suggestion, Buffy nodded. "Sounds like a plan. All right then… Dawn, you watch over there, Giles you can take that region, and I'll scan get the rest" dividing what they could see into three main sectors, the Slayer rattled off her orders. Having changed from pessimistic to overly optimistic with only a few words from her loved ones, Buffy could feel determination solidifying in her veins once again.

Dawn, she realised, had been right when she'd said that Spike would need them upon return. Whether he was brutally insane or as helpless as a kitten, the vampire would no doubt require some assistance to remain part of earth's dimension. Dying again by some avoidable incident was something Buffy was not willing to tolerate. They were going to find Spike, and they were going to do it tonight, no matter how hopeless the cause might seem. 

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An hour crawled by, slithering with leisure past the Slayer and her comrades. Midnight was only a half hour away now, the likely deadline for Spike's return creeping closer with each miniscule moment that passed by. Despite all of her determination to find and save the vampire from yet another untimely death, Buffy couldn't help feeling discouraged, doing an emotional one-eighty yet again. Failure was never an option in her eyes, but in the rare times when it became a reality for her, the Slayer was devastated. 

Eyes glued to her portion of Sunnydale's vast territory, Buffy searched for any supernatural occurrence, ready to jump at the first sign of unnatural light from a portal or petrified screams from a possible victim of Spike. "Find anything yet?" she said to Giles and Dawn, wondering how they were coping with the agonizingly slow and uneventful pass of time. 

"No" came Dawn's teenaged voice, followed quickly by a yawn. 

"Nothing yet, Buffy" Giles said, obviously more used to a Slayer's crazed schedule of stakeouts and hour-long hunts. Rupert had a silent notion that Buffy's motives for bringing the vampire back extended a little further than fighting capabilities, but he wasn't about to say anything. Living his life as a father figure for the young woman, Giles had learned to see past her barriers. It was obvious to him that Buffy felt a little more for the peroxide freak than the emotions that usually develop between allies- perhaps a twisted form of friendship. The Watcher had mixed feelings about such a fact, but kept his secrets away from the sometimes-judgemental Scoobies. 

Feet hurting from having to stand for so long, Buffy shifted her weight for the umpteenth time that night, glad that she had at least worn running shoes for the event. "I'm sorry you guys. I know how pointless this must seem" she sighed, wondering absently if Dawn had school the next day. "What was I thinking, dragging you all out here? We might _never_ find him… Spike could be" she stopped. In her somewhat unique way, Buffy had been in the process of rolling her eyes when the sought-after spark of supernatural light suddenly snagged the corner of her peripheral vision. 

Having been prepared for Buffy's rant to continue on, Giles was slightly shocked when an abrupt halt occurred in her line of speech. Hoping that the rise of optimism in his chest would soon be justified, the Watcher turned to his Slayer. "Buffy?" he questioned, resisting the urge to give his glasses a nervous scrub. 

"Giles, look…" she breathed, wide emerald eyes fixated on a single illuminated point in the distance. Vaguely, Buffy heard Dawn turn around as well, her gasp no doubt caused by the rapidly growing oval, its entire mass illuminated by unseen candles. "Is that…?" she stumbled, hoping to God that she wasn't dreaming, hoping that she hadn't fallen asleep at some point in the past hour without realising it. 

Even though neither girl could see him do so, Giles nodded faintly. "Yes, I- I believe so. From this distance it's hard to tell the nature of that… phenomena, but I'd say that our chances are very good" the Watcher answered, bringing his classic form of English calm to the scene. 

Believing her elder's commonly accurate assumptions, Buffy turned on her heel to face him. Determination had carved deep ridges in the pits of her olive eyes, solidifying in her other features as well. Wasting no time with formalities, she instantly spoke up. "Giles…" 

Before she could get a second word out though, the older Brit put a soft hand on her shoulder, his smile equally warm. "I know… Dawn and I will catch up" he said with understanding, not blind to the situation's pressing urgency. 

"Thanks…" she said simply, glancing at Dawn with mixed emotions. There were so many reassuring words she wanted to offer the teenager, but time was of the essence. "I'll see you," she said simply, quickly hugging the young girl. 

"I know" Dawn answered, though her eyes held more depth than such a effortless response. Smiling, she used a meaningful amount of pressure to return the blonde girl's hug, hoping in the crypt of her mind that they were about to get Spike back. 

Tightening the strap on her tranquilizer gun, Buffy exchanged a last set of glances with her loved ones after pulling away from Dawn. Giles simply smiled, giving her a look that said '_you'd better get going_'. Dawn was silent, her lips slightly curled into a smile, no secret message held in her casually riveted posture. Deciding to take her Watcher's advice, the young, seemingly frail girl turned on a rubber heel, facing the night for a single calm moment. 

And then she ran.


	7. Escape From Eternity

Branches, twigs, rocks, and fallen trees; whatever nature could conceive of made an attempt at slowing the Slayer. Through her panicked, blinding velocity though, the blonde girl hardly noticed. Hands reached without a second thought to push away the low-hanging limbs of trees, her head and body flexed in accordance with various horizontal obstacles, and it seemed as if her legs had mapped out an injury-free route hours ago.

Every ounce of the portal's brilliant light had been shed only seconds ago, and Buffy's eyes remained fixed on its last location. After hours of arduous searching and listening to the doubtful whispers in her subconscious, the Slayer's wish had finally been granted. _Nothing_, whether its origin be Heavenly, Hellish, or earthbound, was going to stop her from completing her mission. _Nothing_ was going to stop her from reaching Spike.

**_Halt!_**

Contracting each of her skilled muscles, Buffy obeyed the command, not realising at first that it had originated from within her. Eyes still fixed forward, it took another moment for her peripheral vision to register the existence of a synthetic object, something that didn't belong in the forest. Allowing the emerald centres of her orbs to cautiously slide downward, the Slayer's chest tightened with her shocked gasp. 

At first, Buffy considered herself foolish for undertaking such a reaction. After all, she had been given ample time to prepare for Spike's return. Of course, such an event was incredibly underrated in its ability to shock people. Buffy had been expecting Spike; she had been ready to receive him from Hell and hopefully recuperate his surely broken mind. But _this_ was something different. How could anyone prepare for the shock of stumbling upon a once mortal enemy, his naked, ruined, and quite shivering body within a ten-foot proximity?

Cascaded in a blanket of moonlight, its beam slightly interrupted by overhanging trees, Spike's naked, shuddering form appeared infinitely less threatening than it actually was. Although he had only just escaped from some ungodly Hell dimension, Buffy couldn't help but take the time to realise that his creamy complexion was unmarred. Either it was a condition of being reincarnated, or Spike had possessed a rather skilled aptitude for self-preservation, which he maintained over a century or so of unlife. 

_Oh, God! Focus, Buffy, focus! You'll have plenty of time to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over Spike when you get him home and in the safety of restraints…_ Buffy asserted herself, not wanting her easily distracted mind to wander even a millimetre from its line of duty. Taking in a deep breath, the Slayer shuffled through the rather concise process of readying her faithful tranquilizer gun. 

Lifting the barrel to what she guessed was the correct height, Buffy let out a long breath. "Say hello to suspiciously easy" she said, a faint hint of worry resonating at the edge of her usually confident voice. Buffy gave the trigger a fluent squeeze, and Spike's body responded with a signature jerk, the silver dart penetrating his flesh, relaxing venom instantly finding its way through his veins. 

Replacing her weapon in its cradle across her back, the Slayer now stood before the unconscious form of her resurrected ally. Amidst absolute silence, the soft ripple of Spike's erratic shuddering now dissipated, Buffy permitted her mission a moment's hiatus. Jade orbs taking in the blonde vampire as their subject of focus, the Slayer forced herself to _really_ look at him for some unknown reason.

The fact that Spike's face was not visible made it easy for Buffy to admit something to herself; all things considered, he was a fairly handsome creature. Never before had the vampire's flesh been quite so exposed to her, muscular triceps and rippling back always hiding beneath the leather of Spike's loyal duster. Although he wasn't the tallest or most brawny of his species, concealed within such a lean build was strength that even Buffy found difficult to overcome at times. 

Bodily functions keeping her sewn to reality, the Slayer gave her head a light shake, distracted thoughts quickly dispersing. Consuming what few feet separated her from the vampire, Buffy took a knee beside him, suddenly wondering what her next course of action was to be. Of course, it was obvious that she needed to get him back home, but what then? Was it stupidity to bring Spike back from Hell, to hope that there would be some way of restoring what sanity he once possessed? 

Spike's visage now within full view of her slightly glazed orbs, the Slayer realised just how troubled he appeared. Fright and chaos were scrawled messily across the vampire's features, his face twisted into a crumpled heap of tension. Wherever he had been moments ago was most _definitely_ a place Buffy would be willing to wait an eternity to visit. Any dimension that could cause _Spike_ to look so utterly disturbed had no potential for friendliness. 

"Buffy!" the Slayer snapped to attention, head whipping to face the voice's origin. "Buffy!" Giles repeated, the Englishman's signature call not difficult to identify. 

"I'm here, Giles!" the blonde girl answered, eyes flickering to the lifeless shape before her. Perhaps it was the absence of his dark, mysterious jacket, its poise about his body utterly intimidating, but with an absence of clothing, Spike seemed so… vulnerable. _Absence of clothing?_ Her mind repeated the phrase, finding it a little too grammatically perfect. _Absence… of… clothing… oh, God! Spike! **Naked** Spike! Giles! Dawn!_

After years spent concealing the unacceptable and unexplainable, Buffy's reaction to remove her jacket was almost instantaneous. With fluid movements, she draped the faux-leather garment over Spike's nether regions, hands cautious to avoid contact with them in the meanwhile. How the _Hell _was she ever going to get him home like this?

"Buffy!" her Watcher's voice penetrated the evening stillness once again, followed closely by an echo from Dawn. Glancing in the sound's general direction, Buffy could make out what she assumed to be the vague, wandering contours of her companions. Standing up, she double-checked the fact that Spike's appearance was of a strictly PG-13 nature before responding to Giles' call. 

"Over here, Giles!" she returned, throwing a momentary glance at Spike before stepping toward her comrades. Intercepting them within seconds, the Slayer was lucky to have done so in a region that made Spike rather invisible to her family. "Hey," she greeted them with a slightly breathless smile, purposely putting her body in front of Spike's. 

"Ah, there you are" Giles breathed upon approach. Heaving in necessary litres of oxygen while speaking, the Watcher glanced behind his protégé, able to see the faint outline of what he supposed to be a vampire. "You found him?" he asked, wanting confirmation. 

"Yeah… Didn't put up much of a fight though," she said, eyebrows flickering upward momentarily. "Which, to be honest, gives me a major wiggins…" at Giles' questioning glance, Buffy gave a deep sigh. "I mean, if the Powers did that on purpose… If they were willing to just _hand_ Spike over to us, shouldn't that be a bit of a warning?"

"I'm afraid I'm having a bit of trouble understanding you…" Giles said, Dawn nodding silently. 

"It's just… How crazy can Spike be if the Powers were willing to make it so easy to find him? What exactly have we gotten ourselves into?" arms crossed with concern, Buffy shook her head to the side in an attempt to reset a stray lock of hair. Watching as comprehension washed over Giles' features, Buffy gave a slight nod, briefly turning to look at the vampire. 

"Giles, I want you to take Dawn home. See if you can round up the others on your way… I'll meet everyone at my house in an hour" although she sounded confident, the Slayer was constantly posing new questions for herself. Carrying Spike home was one thing; carrying a _naked_ Spike home while trying to coordinate the placement of her leather jacket over his private parts was quite different altogether. 

"But Buffy, won't you need help getting Spike home? I know you have Slayer strength and everything, but it's kind of hard to sneak through Sunnydale with some guy tossed over your shoulder" mimicking her sister's crossed arms, Dawn finally chose to speak. 

"If you're suggesting that you'd like to help, the answer is no. I'd rather give the good people of Sunnydale a lesson on human anatomy than my little sister" Buffy returned with bitter sincerity. 

Dawn's eyes spread to full width in that moment, head sliding forward in curious disbelief. "You mean… Spike's… He's…?" she stumbled over a wanted sentence while attempting to look past her sister's barricading body. 

"Yes. He _is_. The Hellmouth has a strange habit of sending back its torture victims without their clothing" dryly responding to her sister, Buffy decided then to turn back to Giles, constantly readjusting her position to match Dawn's inquisitive manoeuvres. "_Please_ take her home, and make sure the spare bedroom is ready when I get there… Dawn, _stop_ it!" ruthlessly putting Dawn in her place, Buffy's gaze slid back to Giles within seconds. 

Chuckling softly when his Slayer's temper snapped, Giles placed a soothing hand on her already tensed shoulder. "Everything will be ready. I'll see you in an hour" smiling gently, he then took Buffy's tranquilizing weapon from her, knowing the projectile would only get in the way. "Be careful" Giles said, fully trusting that his Slayer would not put her own life in danger for the sake of Spike's. 

"I will" drinking a cleansing breath, Buffy's eyes remained locked on her sister and Watcher. "See you soon" the Slayer smiled with only partial confidence, turning from her companions after the proper salutations had been executed. _How am I going to do this?_ Buffy vaguely heard herself think yet again, consciousness now focused completely upon the vampire. 

Fishing in her pocket briefly, the Slayer was relieved to find an extra tranquilizer dart. "Please don't make me use this," she mumbled, kneeling next to the chalk-skinned reincarnate. Emerald eyes wanted desperately to roam the vampire's form, mysteriously curious about moonlight's effect on his various rippling muscles.  It was mind over matter though, and for once in her life, Buffy's mind was winning a usually futile battle. 

"All right, Spike… God, it's so weird to be saying that… Well, it's even stranger that I'm standing here talking to myself, but…" realising that she had started what could possibly become a drawn-out conversation, Buffy paused, shaking her head. "Let's get you home" the Slayer's eyes focused on Spike in that moment, vocal chords having gotten back to their original trail of speech. 

Thankful that the opening in her jacket was currently spread across the side of Spike's thigh, Buffy quickly fastened the buttons, figuring it couldn't hurt to keep the garment around him. As she came up with different tactics for carrying the vampire, Buffy also tried to imagine different excuses should she run into people along the way. 

_Fireman's hold: practising to be one of the first female Sunnydale Firefighters…_ her first and foremost thought was created with a somewhat logical explanation. _Holding him under the arms and knees… he thought it would be funny if **I** carried **him** like the bride for once_… she would _definitely_ have to modify that one. _Piggyback… he fell asleep at a friend's house… I just live down the street_… hey, it didn't sound _totally_ crazy. Of course, undermining each of her genius explanations was the fact that Spike was wearing only a girl's jacket, the garment furthermore being worn around his waist.

Buffy groaned aloud at the absurdity of her situation, knowing that no matter what, she would appear completely insane to anyone who passed her by. Randomly choosing to start off with an over-the-shoulder hold, the Slayer closed petite palms over Spike's upper arm and leg. Balancing the vampire's weight properly over either shoulder, the blonde woman set a determined set of brilliant green orbs straight ahead, right leg falling forward, planting itself perhaps two feet in front of her other appendage. 

_Alright…_ Buffy thought internally._ One footstep down, about four thousand to go…_

(Oh my gooosh! I am so sorry everyone… I know it's been practically a century since my last update and I apologize for it a thousand times over. It's just… You have no idea how busy I've been… with all of my extra-curricular activities and my job, I probably haven't had a free night in a month or so. But hey! Have no fear, I'm still pluggin' away, working on my stories when I can… My next update for this story will be MUCH sooner, I guarantee it! Until then, I hope you'll be able to understand if I'm not updating every three days or so. THANKS for being such loyal readers, too!)


	8. Thiry Minutes and Counting

"Shouldn't Buffy be back by now?" there was a slight quiver in Dawn's voice as she spoke, brown-haired teen studying what could be seen of Revello Drive. It had been nearly an hour since her last sighting of big-sis, and the teenager was beginning to worry. 

"Well, it depends. Judging by her rather unique situation, Buffy could have run into any sort of difficulty along the way" Giles said soothingly, gaze also flowing from the front window. "I wouldn't worry just yet, Dawn"

"What do you think he'll be like?" she said softly after a brief pause, momentarily glancing at the Watcher. 

Giles frowned in response, hoping the other Scooby members would be able to offer their opinions. As he groped for words, the older man glanced around the room, blank stares being the majority response.

"Absolutely crazy" Anya jumped in, receiving a few odd stares at her confident statement. "I once sent someone to Hell for a day… He came back all jittery and a little insane" she justified, speaking in a frighteningly casual tone. 

Frowning, Willow vaguely nodded, glancing to a slightly embarrassed Xander. "I think I'd have to agree with Anya" surprised eyes were thrown in the Wicca's direction, her decision to concur with the ex-demon a sign that Hell was most definitely beginning to freeze over. "Well, we all heard about what Angel was like when he came back… and Spike was gone for twice as long as he was…"

"And he was crazy enough _before_ he died" Xander laughed dryly, adding to the group's general feeling of nervousness surrounding Spike's return. "Do you think Buffy realises what she's getting herself into?" the carpenter asked no one in particular, the question veering in Giles' direction on its own accord. 

"I'm not totally sure to be honest with you," the older man said gently, not wanting to stab at his Slayer's judgement more than necessary. "But seeing as though it's Spike we're dealing with, Buffy must know what she's doing" Giles explained, attention now averted from the window. 

Silence fell upon the group then, no one able to come up with a reasonable objection to the Watcher's statement. Sunnydale's current Hellmouth situation was not a pretty one; the vampire population was growing steadily, a once revered subspecies becoming nothing more than over-intelligent rabbits; there was also the arrival of a new demon clan. No name had been placed on the overly intelligent group yet, but for the Scoobies, any demon with an intellectual capacity capable of outweighing that of a human's was definitely threatening. Even Xander had begun to hope that Spike would be successfully recuperated. 

Shattering a cloud of idle silence was the rough reverberation of wood being mercilessly cracked open. Anticipating glances were tossed from Scooby to Scooby as everyone jumped up, needing no second guesses to name the meaning of such a sound. "Honey, I'm home!" came Buffy's strained voice, her back thoroughly aching from her awkward cargo. 

"Hey, Buffster! We were beginning to worry about you!" Xander was the first to speak, no mention given to the vampire slung over his best friend's shoulder. 

"Aha, yes, well…" she said quickly, cutting off anyone else's chances at speaking to her. "I'd love to chat and everything, but you have no idea how heavy Spike can get after an hour… is everything ready upstairs, Will?" Buffy threw a glance at her red-haired friend. 

"Yeah, uh… Tara will be here in a few minutes" she smiled, fingers clasped around the ends of her sleeves. "We just forgot to pick something up at the Magic Box" 

"All right" the Slayer half-grunted, eyes suddenly fixed on the staircase before her. Heavy footfalls took her forward, the slightly astounded gazes of her friends following her along every inch. 

"Need a little help there, Buffy?" the carpenter offered, wondering if Buffy, Slayer strength and all, would be able to ascend the monstrous staircase. 

"No…  Thanks, but… I think I can make it up the stairs" she croaked. Drinking in a recharging breath, the Slayer continued toward the staircase, her footfalls taking on the form of a running start. Rubber sole met oak tread and Buffy's quadriceps contracted immediately, scaling the next four vertical obstacles within seconds. 

Five sets of lungs remained without movement in the meantime, the Scoobies simply staring after Buffy. Thump, thump, thump, three more stairs… Thump, stomp, stomp… She cleared the landing in a split second, executing the final steps with perfect accuracy. It was only then that the Slayer's companions followed, having dreaded the thought of being caught on the stairs behind a potentially unstable Buffy. 

Dropping Spike to the cushioned surface he had turned to dust upon months ago, the Slayer's first reaction was to stand up straight. Hands at the base of her spine, she tipped her head back, arching in the same direction. Groaning with relief as several kinks and knots were quickly banished from her vertebrae, Buffy wanted nothing more than to be lying beneath the experienced hands of a masseuse. 

A thunder of hooves though, and her peaceful setting was destroyed, the faces of her friends appearing from behind the corner. Buffy straightened at the sight of them, gaze tossed to the still half-naked form on the bed. "Hey" she said, melting farther into the room to accommodate for the five extra bodies. All the while, her gaze remained fixed upon Spike, lost in some far-off world of thought.  

"So it really worked," Willow said quietly, the first to catch her breath out of the quintet. Her gaze studied Spike, mature mind immune to his indisposed state.  

"It really worked" bluntly answering her friend, Buffy tore her gaze away from the pale, unconscious figure. "Of course we still have a long, _long_ way to go… but at least it's a start" she sighed gently. 

"Who votes that we start by getting some _clothes_ on him?" Xander broke in, fracturing the rather apprehensive atmosphere. 

"Splendid idea" Giles returned, eyesight having not even skimmed the vampire since his appearance in the front entrance. 

"Agreed" speaking with thorough concurrence, Buffy uncrossed her arms and moved behind the group, coming to rest by her mother's makeup bureau. Especially to the relief of Xander and Giles, her new position caused their gazes to be aimed in the completely opposite direction of Spike. "Right, uh, Dawn, you're going to stay here and go through mom's drawers. See if you can find some old track pants or something. Willow, go downstairs and wait for Tara. The _second_ she gets here, let me know. Giles, I want you to get me some more rope… whatever you can find. I have a feeling we're going to need it. Xander, Anya, I want you guys to go back to the Magic Box and pick up a few more tranquilizer shots. If you see an all-night hardware store open along the way, stop in and buy a few locks. Hurry back" tossing out orders as they flew through her mind, Buffy's voice was assertively calm. 

"In for a little more than we planned, Buff?" came Xander's slightly nervous voice, though he chuckled airily at the comment. 

"I think so," Buffy admitted, eyes flickering past the group to Spike's still comatose body. "I just don't want to take any chances…" she sighed, emerald jewels flickering back to the slightly jarred faces of her friends. "All right guys, let's get going… I don't know how much longer that stuff is gonna last" at the drop of her imaginary hat, everyone was in motion. 

Willow, Xander, and Anya shuffled from the room as quickly as possible. Giles' wise gaze lingered upon his instinctive Slayer for a moment before he too turned away, already thinking of the various locations where he would find heavy-duty twine. Meanwhile, Dawn crossed the room, abruptly halting before her mother's dresser. Closing her eyes, the teenager tried to push away any feelings of guilt and dread, attempted to treat the wooden case like any other stash of clothing. But she couldn't do it. Dawn _couldn't_ bring herself to shuffle through her mother's things…

"Buffy?" the teen's shaky voice attracted her sister's attention as Dawn turned away from her mother's wooden furniture. 

"Yeah?" the blonde girl said quickly, emerald eyes flickering over the young girl's form with a neutral tone. 

"I… I can't…" she began, running into immediate difficulty with the task of finishing her sentence. 

Dawn's quivering voice, along with her position in front of the dresser told Buffy what words could not. Sighing gently, emerald orbs fixed empathetically on her sister, the Slayer stood up. "It's okay" her whisper was soft, surprisingly understanding in such a hurried situation. "How about you go downstairs and wait with Willow?" running a finger through Dawn's hair, Buffy let her hand simply fall to the teen's shoulder. 

"Ok-okay" Dawn gave a miniscule laugh, attempting to flush out the various shivers running amok along her spine. "You sure you'll be all right?" eyebrows lifting, her blue eyes glanced toward the still half-naked figure on Joyce's bed. 

"Yep… the situation is under control" she smiled then, taking the hint of her sister's need for a lighter mood. "Besides, even if Spike _does_ wake up, I have one more dart left, which should be enough to keep him asleep until everyone gets back" her gaze flickered to Joyce's nightstand then, Dawn's eyes doing the same. 

"All right… We'll let you know when Tara gets here" Dawn gave an incredibly faint smile as she spoke. Realising though how essential time was to their mission, the younger girl ushered past her sister, succeeding in her attempt to _not_ glance in Spike's direction as she did so. Thankfully, the brown-haired teen was smart enough to close the bedroom door before making her way downstairs. 

Fixing her gaze on Joyce's dresser, Buffy resentfully approached the towering piece of furniture. Months had flown by since her mother's passing, and only now was Buffy filled with enough courage to open the haunting drawers. Closing her eyes as she pulled at a wooden handle, the Slayer was forced to ignore whatever floral scents bombarded her. Now was not the time to get stuck in an emotional bubble. 

Shuffling briskly through the drawers, attempting to waste no time on formalities, only seconds passed by before Buffy's hands emerged from the neatly-folded stacks of clothing, slender fingers clutching a pair of yellow track pants. _Mom had yellow pants?_ Shaking her head, lightly humoured by her mother's various tastes and habits, Buffy came to rest at Spike's side, the pants dangling between either hand. 

"Well" she gave a light sigh, jewels drinking in the vampire's vulnerable flesh. "Here goes nothing" eyebrow raising at the comment, mouth twisted in a manner that exposed the awkwardness of her situation, Buffy got to work on the task of redressing her fated foe. Then again, after all he had done for the Slayer and her cause, Spike could hardly be classified as a 'foe' anymore. 

God, he was beautiful though. Buffy couldn't remember what she had thought of Spike upon first meeting him; the fact that he was trying to kill her didn't open a lot of opportunities to admire his appearance at the time. But now, suspended beneath moonlight's gentle gaze, each of his perfectly preserved muscles dusted with silver powder, the vampire was incredibly alluring. "Please be curable," she whispered gently, securing the elastic waistband around Spike's hips. Every molecule of her sometimes cynical mind hoped for the best to come out of Spike's current condition; vampire or not, it would be no easy task if she were required to execute the blonde-haired man for a second time. 

Time seemed to stand still as Buffy went about the fairly simple task of lashing Spike to her mother's sturdy bed. Doubting that any normal means of restraint would be able to hold him down, the Slayer was forced to criss-cross his arms behind his back, securing his left arm to the right side of the bed, and vice versa. _Note to self: don't let Dawn have any friends over_… Buffy thought mentally, knowing that teenagers would draw the _wrong_ conclusions from seeing a man fixed in such an unconventional manner. 

Tightening the final restraint, Buffy shot a glance at the clock on her mother's nightstand. 2:39 am. Fairly certain that Spike had returned around midnight, a magical hour for all supernatural activity, the Slayer had to assume that perhaps thirty minutes remained until the vampire awoke from his artificially-induced sleep.  

Idly glancing around the room, Buffy's eyes casually wafted over different objects, but were suddenly snagged at the sight of a single object. Beneath the bedroom window, a burgundy easy chair summoned her presence, tired, aching limbs strongly wishing to comply. Groaning, the Slayer practically fell toward her cushioned saviour, petite form sagging into its wine-coloured embrace before she even realised what she was doing. 

Lazy eyes firmly secured upon Spike's soon-to-be-stirring form, the Slayer decided that perhaps sitting wasn't such a bad idea. After all, with a killer back from Hell taking up residence in her mother's bedroom, Buffy didn't foresee many chances at a good night's sleep in the near future. Having only just finished an hour-long trek through some of Sunnydale's most challenging terrain, she at least owed her body five minutes worth of rest.


	9. I'm Back, And I'm A Bloody Animal!

"Are you guys all finished up there?" Buffy was the first to speak, having glanced up to see Willow and her blonde lover descending the staircase. 

Reaching the landing, Willow gave an affirmative nod. "One vampire barrier successfully installed" her smile was nervous, almost shaky. "We're not totally sure if it worked though…" she glanced Tara, who was equally uneasy. "Doing a de-invite for an entire house is one thing… Protecting just a little portion…" Willow tipped her head ever so slightly to the side, features becoming uncomfortable. 

"It's okay, Will," Buffy gave a sympathetic smile. "Whatever you can do to help is great… I appreciate it" the Slayer's voice was soft and collected, hardly displaying the veins of fear rupturing everywhere within her. 

Silence fell over the group then, everyone retreating into their own particular worlds. Mostly, the Scoobies were frightened, the reasons for such practically running a marathon through their minds. Only Buffy knew what to expect of the bleached vampire; no one else had seen Angel when he'd returned, didn't know just how insane he'd been. 

Idle thoughts of Spike thrummed several chords within the Slayer, and she became painfully aware of how soon he'd be waking up. Reading the troubled body language of her friends, she gave a light sigh. "You guys had better get going… Sleeping beauty will be waking up soon, and I _really_ don't think you want to be around for that" Buffy's eyes lifted as she spoke, as if she could see Spike through layers of wood and drywall. 

"Are you sure you don't want one of us to stay with you?" Xander tossed in, despite the fact that he was already on Dawn-duty for the evening. 

"I'm sure. The last thing I need is for Spike to escape while one of you guys are around… especially since he'll have a _major_ lacking in the sanity department," she said seriously, eyebrows lifting to complete the mood. 

Final statements were mumbled, a few last offers of aid auctioned to the Slayer, but she accepted none of them. Feet moved about almost robotically as the Scoobies closed in on the front door, exchanging salutations with Buffy before heading out. Willow offered her friend a hug, Tara simply smiling in the midst. Xander and Dawn copied the redhead, while Anya added a chirpy and quite unusual comment of encouragement. Giles was the last to go, simply placing a hand on his Slayer's shoulder, softly speaking words of assurance and trust. Everyone's farewell was met with an equal sense of thanks by the blonde hero, and within a few, unrecalled moments, she was left leaning against the interior side of her wooden door, staring at the staircase with determination for a second time that evening. 

_Time to face yet another chapter of my twisted destiny_…

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Only seconds passed it seemed before Buffy was listening to the first muffled whimpers of a tortured vampire attempting to arise from artificially induced sleep. Standing in a shaded corner of the moonlight-soaked bedroom, the Slayer had decided that it was best to allow Spike some time to adjust before approaching him. Each of the vampire's movements were carefully observed though, a corner of Buffy's mind apparently fascinated with his situation. 

Beautiful features crinkled as Spike's head twisted from his left shoulder to his right, and then back again. Every so often, his upper arms would tense suddenly, biceps muscles protruding from the vampire's milky skin. Whatever was swimming through his mind at that moment surely couldn't have been pleasant. 

Whimpers turned into strained moans though as Spike's entire body arched from the bed's cushioned surface, every muscle fibre in his well-toned body seizing this time. Arms tied behind his back, any woman would have marvelled at the show as he then turned slightly in Buffy's direction, pain seeming to originate from his right side. Although they were mortal enemies, the Slayer couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for his obvious torment. 

Perhaps five seconds passed through oblivion before Spike relaxed suddenly, air expelling from his dead lungs at blinding speed. Reflexively, Buffy sighed in the same moment, eyes closing for a moment to regain her focus. Opening her pair of emerald jewels, the Slayer was startled to see that Spike's eyes were also unfastened. Not just ajar though, she noticed; the vampire's azure optics were completely exposed, lids drawn back to their full allowance. 

For a moment, the spheres remained still, completely relaxed in their newly restored eye sockets. _Stay put_… Buffy ordered herself, a sudden urge to step forward instantly shot down by the two syllables. Mesmerized, the Slayer watched as Spike's eyes began rapid movement, oscillating from one region of the bedroom to another, never remaining fixed upon a certain position for more than two seconds. All motion was abruptly severed though when his line of sight grazed Buffy's hidden form. _Right… night-vision…_ the Slayer reminded herself, keeping silent nonetheless. 

Panic had become a natural reaction for Spike's animalistic mind over the centuries. New environments generally meant torture; Hell, _any_ environment meant torture. But when his eyes became cemented upon Buffy's form, everything came tumbling down for the vampire. Usually he was spared at least a moment to adjust to any new surroundings, left alone as terrified suspense solidified within his system. Today was different though, apparently; the bringer of anguish had already arrived. 

Apprehensive eyes evolved into a hating nature as Spike gave a last, snarling attempt at scaring his attacker away. Buffy stayed still. Features twisted into a visceral position, distorting any sign of peace that had once been set upon the vampire's features. Buffy remained static. Both of his attempts snuffed out by the strange, hardly-demon like creature, Spike then set to work on a deep, rumbling growl. Originating from the fathomless catacombs of his chest, the reverberations eventually made it past his lips, creating a sound so monstrous that no human could ever successfully attempt to replicate it. Buffy still refused to move. 

Unthreatening stances didn't seem to register in Spike's mind as such though. After allowing his growl to rumble past Buffy's sensitive hearing for perhaps twenty seconds, the vampire had swallowed his fill of mind games. Mumbled silence was instantly drowned in furious bellows; Spike began writhing violently on the bed, hardly seeming to notice the muscular pain caused by his vigorous twisting. Eyes locked upon the Slayer's form, he continued thrashing about, screaming as he did so with no apparent intention of ever finishing. 

Standing where Buffy had situated herself, that certainly seemed the case. Scream, twist, turn, take a breath; scream, twist turn, inhale; over and over again he completed the cycle, body seeming completely blind to any forms of pain. But she couldn't let it go on. When Spike's torture of himself and the bedroom's once peaceful silence passed the five-minute mark, Buffy instantly decided on a course of action, wondering how she had lasted so long in the first place. 

Tenderly stepping forward, the Slayer was hardly surprised when such movements caught Spike's attention. As if some command switch had been disengaged, his whipping about instantly halted, only his fixed gaze remaining constant. Another step forward, and Buffy could have sworn she witnessed the vampire twitch, though it was miniscule if even existent. What was he feeling? Fear? Apprehension? Recognition even?

Tension was stretched unevenly between the blonde pair, the rubber band relaxed only slightly by Buffy's sensitive demeanour. Spike was hardly at ease though, his usually blind consciousness now arguing with itself. Tweaked instincts initially told him to react with nothing less than pure rage. Scream, kick, twist, fight… Anything to delay the inevitable torture would be acceptable in such a situation. 

Something wasn't right about this particular setting though; even _he_ could sense such a thing. Jagged chains were usually the preferred restraining devices, slithered so tightly around his wrists that even the slightest of movements would solicit an angry bite of metal. Instead, his arms were bound with something new, something soft to the touch despite its constricted attitude. Shifting his weight ever so slightly, the vampire noticed yet another odd detail. Everyone was aware that Lucifer hardly fancied comfort amongst his damned souls; so why had Spike's slab of cinderblock on which to lie spontaneously transformed into something… gentle? And where were the weapons? 

The Slayer's position shifted with another footfall, and Spike quivered yet again. Obviously, more than a few cushions and a petite blonde were needed to break down countless centuries of evolved instincts. Buffy could deal with that. However, the idea of needing an equal amount of time to demolish such barriers wasn't _quite_ so appealing. Luckily, there was always bondage to speed up such a process; at least this way she could get close to him. 

"Sp… Spike" even her whisper was muffled as she spoke, curious if he was used to having speech demonstrated with such an inferior tone. The vampire growled, and Buffy tentatively lifted a hand, as if trying to keep his aggressiveness at a distance. "It's okay, Spike…" she paused, eyes closing as the vampire snarled yet again. "It's just me… Buffy…" her spoken name didn't seem to strike a single chord within the blonde creature, such an assumption confirmed by yet another knotted threat expelled by his chest cavity. 

Everything was so confusing for Spike's infantile mind. The bed's yielding surface, the sheets wrapped snugly around his wrists and ankles, the beautifully shaped demon speaking in a tone that was completely alien yet sufficiently comforting to his ears. Spike didn't understand; in his span of memory, never before had he been allowed such luxury, a room of his own away from Hell's raging coal chamber. Not to mention being placed in the company of a demon who, as far as he could tell, looked like _him_. 

When yet another footfall extracted the same furiously terrified response, Buffy gave a deep sigh of resignation. "Right…" she said lightly, the words created more for her own use. "Nearly an eternity spent in Hell and your _first_ assumption is going to be that I'm _not_ here to torture you" emerald eyes rolled as the Slayer turned her back on Spike while speaking, quietly berating herself. "Gee, Buffy… Let's come up with some more ways to confuse the insane vampire living in your house" 

Quivering, snivelling reverberations continued to invade the Slayer's sense of hearing, signifying the fact that Spike was still panicking amidst his new environment. Briefly, Buffy caught herself wondering what was running through his mind. What creatures did he think were about to appear from nowhere, their soul purpose being to make artwork out of his internal organs? Did any part of him recognize her in the slightest? Was he going to be cold without the eternal flames of Hell rolling about him? Why did she care in the first place?

Opening eyes she hadn't realised were closed, the emerald jewels instantly fixated upon what was currently her only weakness. Burgundy material was snuggled closely around a cushiony interior, two fabricated walls spread just far enough apart so that Buffy could easily burrow in between them. Nothing said 'easy surveillance spot' like a warm, comfortable piece of furniture, the Slayer told herself. It wasn't the queen-sized accommodation she was used to, but it was enough. 

_Besides…_ Buffy added. _Leaving an evil, **chipless** fiend all alone for more than thirty seconds? Not exactly my idea of adventurous fun_. Of course, there was also the chance that falling to sleep before Spike's crazed eyes might help in quelling the surely thundering flames raging through his confused mind. 

Such simple thoughts were all the Slayer needed to approve her plan of close-to-the-psycho sleeping. Turning to meet the violent storms otherwise known as Spike's eyes, Buffy allowed herself to be captivated by such a gaze, holding onto the azure orbs as she sank into the cushioned chair. Initially, Buffy found the vampire's abrupt level of virtual silence quite odd; but then, when she referred back to Angel's triumphant return from Hell, the questioning notion in her eyes was quickly extinguished. Although her former lover surely wouldn't have won an award for 'most sane returnee of the year', Angel had definitely displayed his share of calm moments.  

"Please be good," she whispered, voice almost desperate while speaking. Indeed, the thought of a peaceful sleep- one that didn't include the panicked sounds of a vampire -was incredibly appealing to her, but the last thing Buffy wanted was to have to inject Spike with yet another tranquilizer dart. Having oneself suddenly torn out of Hell had to be confusing enough on its own; being held hostage in a half-sleeping, half-alert stasis by unknown chemicals was surely no better.

Whether it was against her own will or not, the Slayer felt her eyelids beginning to fall shut. One gram after another was added to the pair of thin shields until they had formed an airtight seal over her emerald jewels. Somewhere between a quivering gasp and a hushed snarl, Buffy then allowed herself to become enclosed by a clouded sleep, completely welcoming the dream-filled state. 

_The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you'll wake up_… Buffy heard herself thinking just before she dropped onto Cloud Nine. _And the sooner you wake up, the sooner you can start with **really** helping Spike_… She may have been tired, but that thought was enough to snag her attention at least briefly. The odd sentence was quickly countered though._ Helping Spike equals no more psycho-vamp at home, and more help with the Scooby work…_ came her drowsy response; yeah, that's what she had _really_ meant.  


	10. He's More Like A Teddy Bear With Fangs

"So, Mrs. Summers" a synthetically enthused voice boomed, the older man's bleached-white smile blinding beneath row upon row of fluorescent lighting. "Who did you chose as the most eligible bachelor for your daughter?" he continued, emphasizing far more words than were necessary. "Was it Bachelor Number One? You all remember Angel, ladies and gentlemen. Tall, dark, and handsome, with looks that will last forever, he's every girl's dream… Perhaps you chose Mr. America himself, Riley Finn? Whether it's football, fighting demons, or life itself, he's heading right to the top with those good looks and that great attitude" the host paused then, exuberant smile turned to several cameras before finally focusing on Joyce. "Or, Mrs. Summers, did you chose Bachelor Number Three, Spike. Although he seems dark and dangerous, when William the Bloody falls for a girl, he falls hard. Dedicated and loyal, you're always lucky to have him on your side," pause, smile again, look back to Joyce, pause. 

"So, Joyce, if I may call you that, which of these fine young men did you think was the most worthy companion for your daughter?" the older man's face was twisted in an almost horrid manner. Every expression, every gesture and word that spiralled from him seemed completely fabricated. Mr. Caulder, Joyce and Buffy had decided, was the typical game show host. 

"Well, uh, Mr. Caulder…" Joyce was slightly nervous as she spoke, not totally thrilled with the idea of being in the national spotlight. "I gave it a lot of thought, and in the end I chose Bachelor Number…"

"This is boring… Let's watch _MTV_!" Dawn's voice instantly drowned that of Joyce as she stepped in front of the television, fingers punching in her desired channel on the remote control. 

Recovering from the disorienting effect of finding herself in her living room couch rather than beside her mother on the brightly coloured stage, Buffy's eyes flew wide open. "Dawn!" she yelled, shocked and instantly aggravated. "I was watching that!" the brunette simply rolled her eyes, turning to face her sister as the blonde jumped up. "And, hello, ignorant much? _Mom_ was on that show, picking the most eligible bachelor for _me_!" she growled, facing a still uncaring sister. 

"Buffy, we've already seen that like a _thousand_ times. We both know who she picks" Dawn tossed casually back, obviously unruffled by her sister's rage. 

"What?" the Slayer's forehead crinkled, visage twisting into its classic confused posture. "We do?" 

"Uh, yeah" Dawn's eyebrows danced as well, upper lip curling to complete her 'duh' expression. "Buffy, you _do_ realise you were watching a rerun from like, six months ago, right?" she gave a little laugh then, eyebrows still fixed in their 'do you have amnesia?' state. 

"Ah, go easy on her, Bit" Spike's voice wafted into the warmly decorated room, his shirtless figure quick to follow. "Slayer just hasn't been getting her beauty sleep lately… Isn't that right, pet?" Spike grinned mischievously, his own eyebrow flickering upward in a suggestive manner. 

"Ew!" Dawn cut in before the vampire could continue, turning away from the blonde pair. "Okay, _how_ many times do I have to say this… the sixteen-year-old does _not_ need to or _want_ to hear any mention of your guys' crazy sex adventures" eyes focused now on the television, Dawn attempted to push away the shameful mental images that suddenly flooded her. Hey… it wasn't _her_ fault that Spike and Buffy had chosen to de-virginize the staircase without first locking the front door so that certain unsuspecting sisters couldn't walk in on them. 

"What? Adventures?" Buffy stumbled, unable to repeat certain portions of the teen's outburst. "Dawn, _what_ are you talking about?" emerald optics bore into her sister's spine, the Slayer attempting to remain ignorant of Spike's presence in the meanwhile.

"I love you" Spike's eyes remained locked with hers before taking a moment to journey up and down her form. Every ounce of his strength was focused on keeping his hands still; this was perhaps the most romantic setting he'd shared with Buffy in… well, ever. He couldn't spoil it now. 

_Whoa… _Buffy heard herself think. _Scene change much? Okay, now I **know** I'm dreaming… And, since this scene just spells 'date', and Spike's the only other one here, I've definitely got to find a way **out**_. Buffy was cuddled intimately close to the vampire as they remained spread out on the hood of his ancient DeSoto, a cloudless blanket of stars only adding to the romantic features of their setting. Adding to the Slayer's mental torture was the fact that physically she seemed… rather pleased. 

"I know" her soft voice cut through midnight's suspension of silence, joined by a chorus of chirping insects. _Oh God. Did I just say that? But… Where's my catchy comeback? Why is he not grumbling in anger at my witty remark? What is **wrong** with me? _The Slayer found herself fraying at the edges, for some reason trapped into being _pleasant_ to the vampire. 

_Oh no, he's about to say something. Wake up! Wake up! _She remained static though, emerald eyes gazing with anticipation into a pair of azure pools. _All right… Let's try this again… 1, 2, 3… Wake up! 1, 2, 3… Wake up! _

Daylight.

Exact images were nothing more than variously coloured and somewhat familiar shapes, but all that really mattered was that Buffy had finally awakened from her well-decorated nightmare. The act of rubbing her eyes into a more alert state should have been simple enough, but when a set of guttural reverberations was tossed in her direction, the Slayer remembered where she was. _Crazy vampire, mom's room, alone in the house… And the current 'I'm a living freak-show' World Champion is…?_ Buffy thought with a lengthened sigh, attempting to blink away her remaining drowsiness. 

Doing her best to completely erase the memory of her most recent dream, Buffy then lobbed a glance in Spike's direction, hardly surprised when her eyes became locked with those of her former enemy. "Morning," she said softly, gladly startled when the creature chose to simply stare rather than growl in response. For a fleeting moment, the Slayer found herself wondering if Spike had managed to sleep at all during the night, perhaps give his mind a chance to rest from the shock of such a new environment. 

Feeling as if her inner navigator had recovered from the sometimes-disorienting act of sleep, Buffy decided to climb out of her makeshift bed. Every movement contributing to the task of standing was a highly predictable one, the Slayer making sure of such so that Spike would have no concrete reasons to fear her. "See?" she said once standing straight, face neutral as it pushed out her gentle voice. "Just Buffy…" 

Spike gave no response, visual and audio features apparently turned off at the moment. Only his azure stones remained in motion, scanning the room every few seconds before diving into Buffy's line of vision, remaining there until his instincts ordered otherwise. Everything the vampire had known for hundreds of centuries absolutely screamed that this environment was perilous, and yet the tiny shard of logic he possessed stated otherwise. Never before had torture waited so long to pounce upon him, and never before had the bearers of such unearthly pain come in such pleasant packages, able to deliver such Heavenly vocal tones.

A breath was shared between the two entities, the lungs of both blonde haired figures filling and compressing in unison. Although it should have served as a way to push Buffy farther into her state of fascinated hypnosis, the incongruity of watching a vampire breathe actually brought her back to earth, feet refilling her pair of day-old socks. Tentatively, she moved forward, incomprehensibly strong footsteps meeting the floor of her mother's bedroom without a noise. 

And Spike was silent. Buffy had moved… Moved _closer_ to him, and the vampire only watched. Another step, the action executed with her same cycle of slow, predictable movements, and still Spike refused to contest. Buffy wasn't sure exactly what motivated her to do so, but her previous pathway toward the door was suddenly redirected, her third footfall now aimed in Spike's direction. 

_You're moving too fast, Buffy… There's no way he'll let you touch him…_ Logic-girl debated, every ounce of her experience with Angel helping to prove her point. No one had ever, _would_ ever love her like Angel had, and yet he still flinched at her touch after an exponentially longer time on earth than what Spike had been granted so far. _Shut up, brain… Yes, Angel loved you… But you were in school back then… You couldn't just fall asleep beside him… Spike watched you for…_ she checked the clock. 11:30… _He watched you for eight hours… That's gotta be worth something, right? Right._

Agreeing with adventure-Buffy, the Slayer's appendage fell forward yet again, rationality left stranded in her subconscious mind. Spike could do nothing but watch in apprehension, eyes darting between Buffy's legs, which were now in line with his kneecaps, and her glass orbs.  "It's okay," she said, monotone voice greatly dampened. Spike still refused to relent his state of calm panic. 

Another tentative step forward, another pause, and Buffy was finally ready to perform the action her muscles had been anticipating for eternal moments on end now. The Slayer didn't back down when Spike's locking gaze became slightly vicious. A cool atmosphere had settled around her, and she refused to let it go. If Buffy was going to get anywhere with the vampire, she couldn't afford being startled by his reactions when she was in no danger. 

_Now… Now… Now…_ her mind chanted, constantly giving the go-ahead for her daring move, and yet the Slayer remained statue-like. Everything about the timing was perfect, except for one small aspect. Spike never seemed ready. 

In many ways it was absurd to be concerned with the preparedness of a Hell-crazed vampire, but every time her biceps muscles were inclined to conjure movement, his cerulean eyes would become steel blue. _You can't wait forever, Buffy_… the Slayer's mind pointed out after several failed commands. And it… she… that part of her was right. It was now or never, and she'd already come this far. 

Taking a deep yet audibly invisible breath, Buffy reset her jaw, hoping the movement would also help in improving the structure of her confidence. Fingers flexing, she simply awaited the final, collected direction of her consciousness. _All right…_ she prompted. _One… Two… Three…_ **_Now!_**… the instruction was concrete this time, landing in the Slayer's stomach like a cinder block. 

But it worked. Milliseconds passed, and her arm was already extending itself at a leisurely yet daring pace. Any onlooker would instantly declare that the movement wouldn't conclude for another eternity, but Buffy knew what she was doing. Fingertips outstretched, eyes shifting from their ends to Spike's eyes and back again in a repeated cycle, the Slayer's arm voyaged into uncharted oblivion, almost quivering in anxious excitement of the moment when she would reach his epidermal tissue.

Everything stopped. Buffy's ragged breathing was cut off as her digits reached the breaking point, fleshy pads finally touching down upon a set of firm pectorals. Spike's initial response was to recoil with a most violent form of hatred, but his muscles were paralyzed, his voice disabled.

If her form of contact had been any one of cold, metallic, or even slightly serrated in nature, Spike could have, _would_ have screamed. If the expression on her face had resembled the murderous smirks of his eternal torturers, the vampire would have exploded with a violent force comprehensible only by fellow victims of Hell. But her touch was none of those things. It was soft, dull, comfortably warm. Buffy's facial features were tender, almost timid, and calming.

Spike had found a moment of serenity beneath the hand of his natural enemy. 

"Hello Buffy!" a cheery yet digitally created voice penetrated the electrically charged atmosphere, and Buffy could practically feel everything that was tame between she and Spike instantly disappear. Emerald eyes found his after a disoriented struggle, but the sapphire jewels were already hostile in nature, making it impossible for her to connect with the shred of humanity she _knew_ she'd uncovered in that moment of peace. 

Blonde locks spun in a flurry of movement as the Slayer turned to meet her opponent, a gaze that was filled with dismay landing instantly upon… herself. The Buffybot. _Of all the… 'people'… who could have interrupted us…_ Buffy thought bitterly. "Hi," she smiled, speaking with curt annoyance. Behind her, Spike was growling as his gaze fluttered back and forth between the two Buffys, obviously confused by the appearance of his captor's 'twin'.  

"It is a beautiful morning, isn't it?" the Slayer's replica gave yet another of her disgustingly bright smiles.  It looked as if she had been on the verge of trailing down some random subject, but in that moment the machine's eyes landed upon a certain platinum-haired figure. "Spike!" she exclaimed, eyes widened in surprise. "You're alive! He's alive!" her voice rang with joy, the latter half of her statement directed toward a not-so-enthusiastic Buffy. 

"Not so fast, Barbie," the Slayer ordered, stepping in front of her robotic double as it began the few strides it would take to reach Spike. Hands firmly clenched upon the android's upper arms, Buffy spun her around, ushering her hastily toward the doorway.

"Barbie? Who's Barbie? My name is Buffy!" the bot blabbered as she was lead from Spike's chamber, animalistic snarls following their every footstep. 

"What are you doing here?" Buffy said with exhausted frustration, closing her mother's bedroom door. Every effort was made to avoid eye contact with the robot as it spoke; somehow the Slayer found it impossible to feel comfortable while speaking with herself. 

"Willow sent me" she replied, candy-glossed voice almost too bright for eleven o'clock. 

"Willow? Why would she send you _here_?" Buffy frowned, not understanding why her best friend would order the machine to see her while she was in the process of tending to Spike. 

"She wanted me to tell you that everyone is on their way here. She felt it was the most logical decision because your house is closest to the spot where they were attacked" Buffybot supplied, a faint hint of pride scribbled across her latex features. 

Buffy's stomach, on the other hand, did a back flip. "Attacked?" her frown deepened, sensations of fear beginning to erase her annoyance. 

"Yes. Willow and the others took me out for lunch with them because they didn't want to leave me alone in Xander's apartment. We were sitting at the…" 

"Buffy!" Xander's voice cut the robot off though, he and every member of the Scooby gang spilling through the Summers' front door. "Buffy, are you home?" he called again, worry sewn into his voice. 

"I'm here!" Buffy assured him, a longing gaze tossed toward her mother's bedroom door before she turned on the robot. "You, come with me," she ordered, hurrying down the stairs, followed closely by a mechanical human. 

Every muscle in the Slayer's body was paralyzed within an instant of seeing her friends, the entire group looking as if it had been shoved through a war zone. "Oh God…" she muttered, top lip curling up in sickened shock. "What… What happened?" 

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Noise. Voices. _Thunder_. **_Danger_**. 

Spike couldn't escape it. Unrecognizable sounds pummeled him from every direction, every significant echo bringing with it the potential for injury. For centuries his life had consisted of nothing but pain, torture, and undiluted insanity. It didn't matter if he screamed; it didn't matter if he _refused_ to scream. Either way, the vampire was torn limb from limb, his innards serving as the inspiration for infinite works of carnal art. 

For centuries, Spike been chained to a wall day in and day out. His body, mind, and heart had been at the disposal of whatever demon was assigned to the duty of tormenting him. 

So what was he supposed to make of… _this_?

Despite the cacophonic sounds setting his sense of hearing aflame, every other sense possessed by the vampire was surprisingly… comfortable. 

Not a single weapon or seemingly demonic creature had invaded Spike's sight since he'd regained consciousness. Everywhere he looked there was… _colour_. Burgundy, gold, maple, white; they were alien to the vampire, but in a way that made his instincts practically purr in delight. Physically, Spike found his senses touched in a way they hadn't been in… well, forever. Chains… where were the chains and the cold, ruthless brimstone? Except for the slight cramp in his oddly positioned arms, the vampire's entire body was singing in pleasure amidst his new form of bondage.

And that… _creature_. The one he could only assume looked like his own species. It had behaved so strangely, so unlike the demons he's become accustomed to. Instead of instantly pulling out an array of torturous artillery and cutting into his flesh, it had remained at a distance. When it had spoken to him, the sound had been calming to his ears rather than painful, although his violent instincts hadn't noticed at first. To further emphasize its pattern for anomalous actions, the 'beast' had then placed itself into a seat and closed its eyes, remaining virtually motionless and soundless for… Spike couldn't even tell how long it had remained idle. 

It had touched him, too. His entire body was blissfully electrified even though only her fingertips had been involved in the connection. 

All of these wonderful sensations, including the unidentified being's actions were now causing a few questions to arise within Spike's instincts, imploding any need for endless screaming. History told him to ignore the surroundings and whatever pleasure they brought him. It was all a hoax, every aspect designed to create a false sense of hope before being demolished by Lucifer's henchmen.

But… everything around him seemed so real, so _genuine_. When was the last time he'd been granted so many gifts, from a pleasant setting to having his usually naked body now covered with yet another supply of soft material? Even the sudden intrusion of that other creature hadn't been _so_ terrible. In the end she hadn't hurt him, just startled him. But was that just part of some grand scheme, too? 

It was too much for Spike's simple mind to take in, and too much to ignore as well. For now, he could do nothing but wait. After all, in the end, what did he _really_ have to lose?

(Author's Note: The usual. Sorry for taking so long to update, bla bla bla. But hey, the good news: chapter eleven is pretty much ready to head off to the beta's, so it'll be a much shorter wait this time! Don't expect anything for a week or so though, because I'm going out of town for a few days. Anyway, what did you think? **_Please_** let me know, as I am a review junkie, and I just plain love hearing what you people think, etc! Hope you enjoyed!)


	11. Damage Report, With A Side Order of Sist...

"So you're saying these demons just attacked you in broad daylight?" disbelief was scrawled across the Slayer's features as she glanced once again to each of her mangled friends. 

"Either that or we've all got incredibly twisted and powerful imaginations," Xander laughed dryly, attempting to use his humour to benefit a somewhat devastating situation. 

"I just don't understand why these guys would attack you in the middle of the day. I mean, so far we've figured out that they're smarter than most demons," she paused, contemplating possible answers to her next statement. "So why would they go after you in a public place at eleven in the morning?" she shook her head, able to count on one hand the number of demons who had tried that during all her years as a Slayer, one of which was currently her houseguest. 

"Maybe it's because they could," Willow suggested, extracting confused glances from her companions. "Well I mean, both times we've come up against these guys, it's been while you, or at least the _real_ you, hasn't been around," she said, hoping she was explaining herself correctly. 

"So… you think these demons are actually after Buffy, but they're trying to take us out first?" Tara offered with a shy smile, her hands twined intimately with Willow's. 

"Makes sense," Xander spoke up, obviously comprehending the witch's point. "After all, what good would a general be without his army?"

"And what good is an army without its general?" Tara supplied again, eyebrow lifting as she spoke. "Especially against a group of demons." 

"Well in that case, I'd like to know how they can tell when we're out with the bot and not you," Xander thought aloud, brows furrowing. 

"It's not that difficult, really" Anya said casually from her spot on the Summers' couch. "Most demons have the ability to tell if something's alive or not," she shrugged, causing a somewhat defeated and now desperately-thinking look to cross Xander's face. 

"Okay, true enough. But even then, how do these guys know that _Buffy_ is the Slayer?" Xander waved his hands about in his signature, maniacal way. 

"Well, didn't Dracula say that Buffy is known throughout the world? That a lot of demons know where she lives?" Dawn questioned, clutching her surely bruised elbow. 

"Yeah… All it would take is a bit of reconnaissance work to find out who you are," Willow said with a slight frown, sighing amidst a gloomy atmosphere. She didn't notice the slightly hurt look Xander sent her, the carpenter wishing that she and Dawn could have at least _pretended_ that there was some difficulty to be found in answering his question. 

"Did any of you guys get a good look at their faces?" Buffy prompted after a few moments of silence, her voice hopeful.

"Unfortunately, yeah" Xander said in a monotone voice. Buffy raised an eyebrow, wondering why a visual identification of the offending creatures was considered a _negative_ thing. "I mean, only because in order to do so, Dawn had to be pinned on the ground by one of them, while another had Tara by the throat and shoved against a wall," the carpenter quickly defended himself, receiving an apologetic look from the Slayer. 

"Well in that case, are you guys up for some research?" Buffy looked around at her friends, fully prepared for and willing to accept any words such as 'no' and 'not a chance'. Unless the demons were threatening to immediately bring on yet _another _Apocalypse, she would be perfectly happy with letting research go for just one night. 

"Only if you promise not to start until after 6:00" Anya quickly spoke up. "Saturdays are prime business days, and it is very difficult to promote the exchange of goods for money when the _store_ looks more like a library, and it is especially unpleasant when people have to be told that the books are in _fact_ not for sale," she glanced at the now blank faces of her comrades, and quickly taking it as a sign that she was babbling, the ex-demon quieted almost immediately. She did, however, expect the others to respect her very valid points.  

"That's fine," Buffy replied simply, giving everyone a soft smile. "It looks like you guys could use a bit of time to recover anyway," she said understandingly, brushing her fingers through her hair with a yawn. 

"So does that mean we can go now then?" Anya prompted again, expressing a somewhat hopeful look. "I told Giles that I'd be in at 12:30 to help him with the always exciting task of making money," she smiled, remembering fragments of conversations that she'd had with Xander on the topic of tact. "Not that our present situation isn't important, but Giles can hardly be trusted with the duty of making as many sales as possible during peak hours," the brunette amended, obviously assuming that her comrades understood. 

"You guys go on," the Slayer said with an amused roll of her eyes. "Just make sure you let Giles know what's happening."

Xander nodded, following Anya as she exuberantly bounced toward the front door. Salutations were muttered informally, seconds dragged by, and at the end of it all, Buffy was left standing on the inside of her front door. With an internal groan, she then shuffled toward her living room, choosing to lean against the doorframe rather than take a seat for now. 

"So, how's the undead man walking?" Willow asked, a smile barely hinting at the edges of her lips. 

Buffy sighed, casting a quick glance in the general direction of her mother's bedroom. "Hard to say," she said with a shrug. "I mean, he's _definitely_ freaked, no question about that… But it doesn't seem like he's as violent as Angel was when he got back… Then again I guess the fact that he's tied to a bed kind of helps," the Slayer chuckled, soliciting the same response from her friends. 

"What are you gonna do about him when we're at the Magic Box tonight?" Dawn asked, gaze dancing momentarily toward the same spot as Buffy's had, wishing she could see Spike for even an instant. 

With a groan, Buffy gave up her spot against the doorframe and flopped into the closest easy chair, letting out another puff of air before answering. "That's the part I haven't figured out yet," she said with a slight wince. "If these demons are as battle-happy as you say they are, I don't think it's a good idea to leave anyone alone anywhere… This is definitely a situation where the 'safety in numbers' theory comes into play". Buffy looked between the all-female group that was assembled before her, obviously encouraging any alternative ideas they might have. 

Several moments slipped through the Scooby members' hands, but when an idea finally struck Willow, she almost felt inclined to slap herself for letting its simplicity evade her for so long. "Ooh!" she exclaimed, even the hand that was clasped with Tara's being flung in the air during her bout of enthusiasm. "A research party!" she said simply, bright eyes darting around the room. 

Everyone, in turn, threw her questioning glances. No one quite understood what the Wicca meant, having interpreted their intended all-night session at the Magic Box as a 'research party'. Understanding their confusion, the redhead obligingly explained. 

"A research party" she repeated. "Only, we get Giles and Xander to bring some books over _here_…" Willow paused for her friends to mull over the idea briefly, her eyes bright as she continued explaining. "So it's like, we still do the research, but we've also got milk and cookies to help out in the motivation department!" 

When she finished speaking, everyone in the group was already wearing contemplative expressions. Dawn looked the most enthusiastic of everyone, Tara's smile was more supportive than decisive, and Buffy was plainly unreadable. Willow was about to speak up, but a shrug from the Slayer cut her off. "Sounds like a lot of unnecessary work with the lugging of the books and all… not to go all Giles on you or anything," she laughed. "But… it might actually be a good idea. There's no telling how long Spike's gonna be out of service in the mental department, so maybe it'd be best if we set up temporary shop around here for a while." 

"S-speaking of Spike," Dawn spoke up almost timidly, eyes flickering between her sister and the staircase. 

"No," Buffy established quickly, not needing psychic powers to anticipate what her sister was getting at. Dawn almost looked hurt in response, and the Slayer didn't hesitate to justify herself. "Dawn, I _know_ you've missed him. I do. But it's _really_ not a good idea to be visiting him right now."

Ignoring the sincere glow to her sister's eyes, the brunette rolled her eyes. "Why, because he's _dangerous_? He's tied to a bed!" 

"It's not that," Buffy shook her head, wanting to quell the impending argument before it began in light of the fact that Willow and Tara were already looking somewhat uncomfortable. "Look," she said with soft authority. "Spike's been through a lot since the last time you saw him. Right now, he's confused, violent, and probably just scared. I _don't_ think it would be smart to bring anyone new into the picture _just_ when he's starting to get used to things," she sighed, seeing that although she was incredibly disappointed, her sister understood. "You've already waited this long, Dawnie… Just give it a couple more days."

Dawn sighed, slumping into the couch's highly cushioned back as she rolled her eyes. "Fine. But as _soon _as he's better or whatever…"

"You'll be the first one to see him," the Slayer completed her sibling's sentence with a nod. "I _promise_… Well, next to the Buffybot, that is," she laughed wryly. 

Everyone looked mildly intrigued by this statement, so for lack of something better to say, Buffy proceeded to explain. "Earlier today, just before you guys came in I was upstairs with Spike… It seemed like I was actually making some progress with him too, until of course _she_ came crashing through the bedroom door," remembering Spike's partially aggressive reaction, the Slayer winced. "It wasn't pretty," she said, shaking her head faintly. 

Willow looked slightly bashful in response to Buffy's story, having been the one who sent the 'bot over in the first place. Perhaps it was due to this case of guilt, or just her natural gift for solving problems, but another idea diffused into the redhead's mind in that moment. "Hey, speaking of the Buffybot," she began, contemplative eyes becoming focused. "Why don't we get _it_ to move all of Giles' books instead?" she offered, looking around at her colleagues. "I mean, the _least_ it could do is help out," she added, knowing the robot was willing to accept any duties laid upon her, no matter how tedious they may be. That, and with her inhuman strength, the android could no doubt carry three times her weight in text books, which meant the job would get done faster. 

Buffy took about five seconds of contemplation before an answer rolled past her lips. "Cool" the Slayer shrugged, appearing indifferent either way. In her mind, it didn't matter what her mechanical twin was up to, as long as she was guaranteed to stay out of trouble. "Speaking of which," she said, suddenly frowning. "Where did our wacky metallic sidekick go?" 

"Oh, uh, don't worry" Willow quickly offered, knowing her friend was probably concerned that Spike's privacy was in danger of being victimized again. "I told her to go sit in the dining room when we first got here… she usually listens to me."

Buffy relaxed, nodding. The last thing she needed was for Spike to lose any trust he'd built up in her favour due to some intrusion by the clueless robot. _Stupid Warren and his life-sized Barbies_ she ground out mentally, despite the fact that the 'doll' in question had helped in averting at_ least_ one Apocalypse so far. 

"Well, we should probably go now, before the Buffybot really _does_ decide that it's time to start exploring," Willow suggested, glancing at Tara and Buffy, who both voiced their approval. "We'll head over to the Magic Box, fill everyone in on the details."

"Sounds like a plan" Buffy smiled, standing as the pair of Wicca's did and trailing behind them to the front door. 

Having obediently followed Willow's orders as hoped, the Buffybot looked up from her seat in the dining room, a bright smile spreading from cheek to cheek upon seeing the trio. "Willow! Tara! Buffy! Hello!" she said, almost proving with her tone of voice that pure sunshine could in fact have a sound put to it. Approaching the doorway with an all too cheerful bounce in her step, the robot also became aware of Dawn's presence. "Oh, and hello Dawn!"

The teenager waved unenthusiastically, not bothering to move from where she stood leaning against the living room's doorframe. 

"Are we on our way to go and fight unspeakable evil?" the 'bot asked perkily, turning her attention back to the three older girls in automatic response to Dawn's disinterest.  

"Uh, something like that," Willow smiled hesitantly, sometimes forgetting that despite its apparent enthusiasm, the robot had no emotions to be injured by a negative answer. "Anyway, we'll call you before we send the robot over," she said, attention directed at the _real_ Slayer as she opened the Summers' front door. 

Buffy let out a sound that was a half-groan, half-laugh. "Yay," she said in a monotone voice. "Now my dreams of actually getting to _live_ with the books I so adore will finally come true!" Buffy shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes. "Anyway, see you later, Will… Bye Tara."

Compared to the exuberant salutation the Slayer and former Key received from the Buffybot, Willow and Tara's good-byes seemed almost sombre, though forgivably so. What human could be expected to match the robot's enthusiasm after being attacked by a group of demons only an hour or so before?

Buffy could do nothing but laugh as her two friends started down Revello Drive behind her synthetic twin, who almost appeared to be skipping as opposed to walking. Hands clasped as they followed behind it, Buffy had to admit that Willow and Tara truly displayed the affection of a perfect couple. _Who knows, maybe there **is** still hope for finding everlasting love on the Hellmouth_… she thought idly, letting out a wistful sigh as she closed the front door and turned to her sister. "So," she muttered, offering a weak smile before looking around. 

"So," Dawn replied simply, arms now crossed as she continued to lean against the doorframe. "What are we supposed to do now?" she asked, one eyebrow lifting above facial features that were contorted with their usual posture of teenaged attitude. 

"Dunno," Buffy shrugged, purposely remaining ignorant of her sister's not-totally-pleased demeanour. "Wanna… watch a movie or three?" she suggested with an airy laugh, wanting to engage in an activity that would take her mind as far away from their current guest-sitting-while-being-tracked-by-demons situation as possible. 

Dawn rolled her shoulders in neutral response, refusing to admit that she didn't hate the idea. "Whatever", she said dismissively, turning back into the living room and flopping on the couch.

Already feeling somewhat exasperated from her sister's behaviour despite her best efforts, Buffy let out another sigh. "All right, you pick out a movie then, and I'll go make some popcorn," she offered, waiting for her sister to agree before budging even an inch. 

"Fine, but we get to watch whatever I want," Dawn said snidely, obviously attempting to extract an angered response from her sibling. 

_My daily dose of random little sister rebellion_… Buffy thought, wanting desperately to pinch the growing internal pain at the bridge of her nose, but refusing to weaken. "Deal," she answered, nodding briefly. Before turning to the kitchen though, the Slayer raised a disciplinary finger, even shaking it once or twice as she spoke. "But _don't_ take this as an opportunity to sneak upstairs."

"Or what?" Dawn smirked. "You'll ground me?" she scoffed. "With these new demons in town, I'll _voluntarily_ ground _myself_," she shrugged, obviously not threatened. 

"Actually," the Slayer said thoughtfully. "That's not what I was planning at all… I was thinking something more along the lines of, oh, I dunno…" she paused a moment, a wicked smile appearing between her cheeks, though its true nature was partially masked with false pleasantry. "Showing up at your school on Monday, dropping in on one or _all_ of your classes and," she shrugged, "acting like a woman in her early twenties who still thinks she can pass for sixteen." 

Dawn took a moment to fully take in her sibling's implications, her eyes already widened in partial horror. "You wouldn't," she said calmly, having thought that her _sister_ would be the last person who might decide to mortify her in such a way. 

"Are you sure?" Buffy tipped her head inquisitively to the left, one eyebrow partially furrowed. When Dawn gave no immediate answer, the Slayer shrugged. "Well, I'll leave you to think about that, I guess… If you need me, just follow the scent of popcorn," she said brightly, smiling before making a flawless exit. 

Dawn sat petrified on the couch, staring after her sister with utter shock. But such a feeling quickly wore off, and the brunette rolled her eyes as she fell against the back of the couch with an exasperated sigh. "God…" she muttered, retaining her previous demeanour. "All I wanted to do was just say 'hello' to him," she said, uncrossing her arms and heading for the cabinet in search of a movie. "No need to get all protective of your _boyfriend_."

(Author's note: Wow. WOW. I know that took me a really, really, really, REALLY, REALLY **LONG TIME** to complete, and I DO apologize to all you people who enjoy reading my fictions. It's just, with school ending, and all of the stuff I had going on in life, it really didn't leave a lot of time for writing *shakes fist*… plus, with the end of BtVS and all, my creativity and drive to write just kinda went kaput for a little while. I know this chapter isn't VERY long, but I assure you that the next one is nearing… oh, I think ten pages on Microsoft word, so hopefully that will be compensation, lol. Anyway, yeah… I hope you enjoyed this tidbit… reviews are ALWAYS welcome!)


	12. Dinnertime At The Homestead

Buffy could not _begin_ to explain just how utterly _bored_ she was. Unfortunately, it wasn't the type of boredom that was simultaneously relaxing, either, like the 'day off, stay at home and do nothing' kind of bored. No, the type from which she suffered was brought on by the fact that she was seated before a mountain of books written in languages she certainly didn't understand. Her mind, therefore, began to wander in thousands of directions at once, desperately searching for some excuse that might alleviate her of her research duties for even a few moments. 

Scanning her surroundings, only seconds escaped before she found the perfect escape route. Her emerald jewels fixated upon the nearby staircase, and immediately she began to formulate a plan. _Thank God for resurrected vampires who, as it just so happens, haven't been fed all day…_

Triumphantly, she snapped closed the ancient book she had been staring blankly at for over half an hour now, making a desperate attempt in the meanwhile to hide the happy smile threatening to unfold between her cheeks. Lost in their own reading-induced slumber, every Scooby in the room glanced up, surprised by the sudden assaulting noise. "What's up, Buffster?" Xander asked casually, eyes flickering between the closed text and his friend's visage. 

"Did you find something?" Giles inquired more formally, removing his glasses for a moment. 

"If by 'something' you mean 'absolutely nothing', then yeah, I've found it in spades!" she said with as much false enthusiasm as she could muster. Giles gave her a somewhat stern gaze in response, and she sighed. "All right, I've got zip. Zilch. Nadda. Nothing. _Less_ than nothing!" she amended. "I feel like I'm reading little-kid writing. These words mean absolutely nothing to me, Giles" she half-pouted.

Having had this exact conversation with his Slayer countless times over the years, Rupert was ready with his response, the one that always crippled her attempts at skipping out of research. "Well, what else do you propose we do, Buffy? You've said yourself that it is dangerous to leave anyone alone for an extended period of time, so patrolling is certainly out of the question" he said logically, continuing on his rant before she could cut in. "I understand that research is not your forte, but it really is our only option at the moment, wouldn't you say?"

Usually, Buffy would have had no choice but to agree with her watcher. Lucky for her though, certain circumstances had arisen since their last research party, meaning that she was left with a loophole. "Actually," her voice cut into Giles' resolve, extracting a mildly surprised look from the Watcher through such simple defiance. "I was kind of thinking that… Maybe… Spike could use something to eat" off the ready-to-argue glance from Giles, Buffy quickly justified her point. "He hasn't eaten since he, you know, got back, which is probably _not_ a good idea seeing as how he just got back from _Hell_ and all" she said with a wry laugh. 

"Even though Buffy is _obviously_ using it as an excuse to escape this boring research," Anya began from across the living room, as usual able to attract everyone's attention within seconds of using her voice. "I would have to say that I agree with her. From what I know Satan doesn't make a habit out of feeding his guests, which is all fine and dandy in Hell because hey, who thinks of food when they're being held over molten lava, right?" she smiled at her own light humour, the only one in the room currently doing so. "In other words, Spike's probably hungry" Anya muttered when no one else seemed to join in her amusement. 

Giles remained speechless for a moment, attempting in every way possible to find a way around the ex-demon's argument, but every road quickly lead to a dead end. With a sigh, he nodded. "I suppose Anya has a point. I would hate for us to have gone through all this trouble only so that Spike would eventually rot away," he said, replacing his glasses. "You may as well feed him, Buffy."

Xander's hand rose into the air at this statement. "Hey do you think I could help?" he asked, eyes glassy like those of a hopeful puppy. "My brain is starting to feel a little on the exhausted side too, you know."

Before Buffy could cut in with her 'this is really only a one-man job for now' speech, Giles had smothered the carpenter's plan. "Xander, I fail to recall a time when your brain was _not_ feeling exhausted by even the simplest of mental challenges," he said dryly, feeling no guilt at the almost hurt expression he received from the young man. "And besides, unlike Buffy your presence here is actually necessary seeing as though you have actually come face-to-face with this demon cult. _She has not, so for now she is actually better off tending to Spike."_

Xander glanced from his best friend to the Watcher seated before him, and sank back into the couch with a disappointed sigh. "Stupid books with all their words… Who do they really think they're impressing anyway?" he muttered, hardly noticing when Willow and Anya shot worried looks in his direction. 

"All right" Buffy said with a deep exhale, attempting also to overlook Xander's comment. "See you guys in… Well, I'm not sure how long… This could take a while, what with Spike being a complete nutcase and all."

"Be careful" Giles insisted. "If you need help restraining him--"

"Giles? He's tied to a bed. I _really don't think you can get more restrained than that" Buffy laughed good-naturedly. _

"Yes, well…" the Watcher faltered for a moment. "Be careful," he smiled amidst his slight blush, replacing his now gleaming glasses and going back to his reading. 

Rolling her eyes while shaking her head in mild amusement, Buffy turned from her group of comrades. _Oh, my family studies' teacher would be so proud of me… 'how to prepare body temperature blood for **all** your vampire guests!'… Buffy thought with slight amusement as she entered the kitchen, pulling out the mug, packet of blood, and thermometer that was needed to concoct what would be Spike's first meal since returning to earth. _

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Spike wasn't aware of how long he'd been lying here now, but it had certainly _seemed like forever. Sunlight had come and gone; all day he'd been lying on his back, bombarded every hour by a multitude of suspicious sounds, each time expecting that some horrible creature would barge in on him and begin its attack. But so far, nothing had happened. _

Doors had slammed, feet had thundered up and down the staircase, girls had yelled at each other from room to room, each time causing Spike to flinch in anticipation, only to be pleasantly disappointed when nothing of significance occurred. Every inch of his flesh was still undamaged, vacant of molten metal, shards of glass, or whatever types of shrapnel were usually pushed into his system. So it seemed that either Lucifer had somehow forgotten about him, or… he was somewhere… _else. _

But no, that couldn't _possibly be true. For hundreds, thousands, _millions_ of years Spike had lived the same day-to-day existence; he would be reborn, experience hours of mind-blowing torture, and die only to be reincarnated so that the cycle could begin anew. There was no way that Satan would just allow that to __end. This had to be a mistake, his going so long without pain. He must have just gotten lost in the system, his place on the schedule shuffled around to a later hour. _

Looking around the once again darkened room, Spike's silent reflection on his current situation was halted abruptly when the sound of approaching footsteps shattered his eardrums. Bleached head whipping to the doorway, his fine-tuned senses listened as sock-covered feet ascended the wooden staircase, creating a muffled tempo. Anticipation caused his unbeating heart to clench, his non-existent breathing to hitch, and every bound muscle in his limbs to seize. 

Someone was coming. 

This was it, Spike could only assume. They were finally coming for him, sharpened daggers and red-hot branding irons at the ready. His time of peace had come to a close, the hours he'd spent sprawled upon the comfortable bed having reached their conclusion. 

Nostrils inhaling the scent of his room, the vampire's eyes roamed his surroundings one last time, fingers pressing into what fabric they could find, cheek nuzzling the pillow, all done in an attempt to imprint this moment into his every sense. For the first time in countless millennia, perhaps even _forever_, Spike had been allowed a little while away from the rolling furnace and harsh brimstone of Hell. And he was _going to remember it. _

The picture firmly impressed upon his consciousness, the vampire tensed again, able to hear that the slow beat of footsteps had now come to rest outside the doorway. Everything had fallen absolutely silent, as if the entire world were holding its breath, waiting to see exactly _what_ was about to step through the entrance. 

The doorknob rattled… turned… released. A faint hint of light from down the hall had already begun to filter through the small chasm that was created, slicing diagonally down the centre of Spike's agitated features. Watching as a few slender digits pushed the wooden structure, its hinges crying out with the effort and being the only sound to invade that vacuum of silence, Spike continued to hold the breath he didn't even need, not a single fibre in his body daring to move. 

Door now fully open, a shower of amber light blanketing most of the bedroom, Spike vocalised his anticipation of torture with a near-silent growl, the sound resonating as if his voice box were trapped beneath a mountain of pillows. He was quite obviously afraid of whatever would be coming through that door, but Hell, it couldn't _hurt to put up an image of courage. _

Spike watched with blue eyes made even more brilliant by the bathroom light, as through the door strode…

_It…_

**_Her…_**

Although he should have known better, for some reason a sense of absolute, undiluted relief crashed through the vampire's system when _she_ stepped through the door. His guttural growl ceased to exist, his wrists relaxed ever so slightly against their bonds, and his eyelids fell, drooping over the glass orbs for a moment. 

When they reopened though, his defensive composure had reasserted itself slightly, the vampire's subconscious knowing that this wasn't necessarily proof that he was out of danger. Always have to be on guard. _Always_. 

"Hey Spike," Buffy said softly, feeling somewhat awkward making use of her voice in the dead silence that surrounded them. The scene was almost eerie; she couldn't hear her friends, was bathed in complete darkness except for the light from the bathroom, and was about to enter a room that caged her once mortal enemy turned mindless animal. Lucky for her though, being a Slayer for five years had helped to raise the bar of definition between 'scary strange' and just plain 'strange'. 

Heaving a deep sigh in an attempt to flush out the many thoughts that were buzzing through her mind, Buffy stepped farther over the threshold, closing the door as softly as she could with the use of one foot. And suddenly, it was pitch black. "Great idea… Close the door _before_ turning on a lamp," she grumbled to herself, casting an almost accusing look in the direction of the window, whose closed curtains made it impossible for _any_ errant light to enter her mother's bedroom. Guiding herself as best she could, using the red glow of the alarm clock as navigation, Buffy set the mug down on the nightstand, attempting to dismiss the half-whimpering, half-growling sounds scampering from Spike's lips. "Close your eyes," she warned Spike, finding the bedside lamp and giving its switch an authoritative twist. 

Light exploded before Spike's eyes, his proximity to the lamp making it seem like some nuclear blast. Head wrenching to the side, eyelids clamping shut, he let out a grunt of dissatisfaction, though was foggily thankful that so far it was the worst form of torment he'd experienced. 

"Oo!" Buffy winced, also blinking in an attempt to adjust. "Sorry…! But you know, it's either that, or have me spill your blood all over the place" she said good-naturedly, speaking to the vampire even though he obviously wouldn't be able to understand a single word. "Anyway, just uh, hang tight for a second. I've gotta get myself a chair," she smiled despite the fact that Spike's head was turned, crossing the room to the easy chair she'd lounged in the previous morning. Sliding it over beside the bed, she sank into its relaxing depths, and realised then that the vampire was still turned away from her. _Note to self: don't ever, **ever** do anything that might increase your chances of getting sent to Hell, she thought wryly, thinking that if a place was so bad that its affects could make her feel _sorry_ for _Spike_, she definitely didn't want to visit. _

Eyes wandering over his form with a newer and almost curious sense of compassion, Buffy made an attempt at getting his attention. "Spike?" she ventured, forcing her hands to remain in her lap. "Spike? You unalive over there?" the Slayer inquired with a short, airy laugh. 

'Spike… Spike… _Spike…'--There was that sound again. She always seemed to be using it as a way of referring to him. It was almost familiar, like some ancient syllable that had once meant something significant, but at the moment was nothing more than a noise. She was obviously attempting to catch his attention though… For what, he wasn't sure, but… he had to find out sooner or later, and there was no time like the present. _

Slowly, timidly, his cranium twisted, the room shifting around him as he moved to face the creature at his left. The light that had bombarded him, he realised, was not so harsh anymore; it was sort of a comforting glow now, painting the room in the same hues that had been visible in the daylight. Skull continuing to turn, it seemed like an eternity until finally, his pair of sapphires fixed upon their sought-out target. It was the thing… creature… _being_, who so far had brought him nothing but comfort. The cramps in his arms could in some ways argue that point, but even _that was heavenly compared to the agony he'd experienced in his lifetime. _

"Hey there," Buffy said, smiling delicately as her emerald eyes fixed with Spike's. When they did so though, she suddenly found herself breathless, caught somewhat off-guard by the realisation of just how… _close_ she was to the vampire. Mere inches were all that separated them; his bound and vulnerable body was sprawled out before her in a picture of falsified weakness. At some point too, the sheet he'd been covered with had slid down to his waist, leaving a perfectly sculptured alabaster chest in its wake, his two rose nipples like beauty marks upon the skin. Suddenly, the memory from that very morning, when her fingers had pressed upon his chest for mere seconds, sprang to mind, and the tips of her digits became suddenly itchy, wondering how it would feel to just _caress him, even for a second._

As if he could sense what she was thinking, the movements of her eyes and their lack of hostility making it somewhat obvious as to what was going on behind them, Spike made… a noise… in response. It was animalistic, to say the least; almost a whimper, but added to it was an element of wonder, as if he were startled by the notion and intrigued by it at the same time. 

It snagged Buffy's attention, ripping her out of the reverie she'd been caught in and setting her spine straight. _Holy… What the… What was **that**?! _she scolded herself, eyes going slightly wide. _First of all, you **know** what his skin feels like… how many times have you fought him over these past few years? Second of all, **are you insane?!**__There will be **no**…'physical'… curiosity about the vampire you're about to feed a mug of blood to… There will be no curiosity about him at **all** for that matter!_

Satisfied with her self-disciplining, Buffy shoved all such related thought material from her mind and focused on the task at hand. Taking up the mug that had, fortunately, not lost any of its heat so far, she held it up for the vampire to see. "Anyway, I brought you some dinner," she swallowed hard at the thought of just _what his dinner was. "I'm sure that after the… you know, __forever in Hell, you'll want something to eat by now," she chuckled softly, realising only now and with slight disappointment that Spike was staring at her with a curious but on-guard expression, as if her voice weren't really existent in his mind. Not that she expected anything more, but it would have been nice if it had seemed as if her talking was affecting him in some way or another._

Cautiously, so as not to agitate him in any way, Buffy began moving the mug toward Spike's mouth, idly wondering if he'd even remember the smell of blood anymore. But then, her motion suddenly stopped. The mug five inches from Spike's face, which was now slightly more contorted with nervousness, Buffy paused in her movements when a realisation hit her. 

Spike was lying flat on his back, with no way to sit up even in the slightest. Of course, there was no chance of him _choking_ in any way, but the Slayer was repulsed by the idea of having to get pig's blood out of her mother's mattress. The only other option though was to re-work some of Spike's bindings, loosen something here, maybe re-position something there… Either way, there was going to be work involved. Locking eyes with Spike for a fleeting instant, Buffy set the mug back onto the nightstand before standing up, a plan for how she was going to accomplish Spike's feeding already formulating in her mind. 

_Okay Buffy, first of all, remember that you **can't** trust him to go along with everything you do. So, safety first…_ She thought firmly, pulling two more bed sheets out of her mother's drawers, deciding that she'd fixate his arms in their new positions and _then_ untie the ones she already had him bound with. Rolling up the floral-pattern linen she currently held, Buffy approached the bed for the second time that evening, but this time to Spike's right. 

Very gently, and with predictable movements as always, the Slayer set herself down on the mattress, her feather-like frame creating only a slight indent. 

Spike snarled then, eyes going slightly wide at her dangerous proximity, his torso reflexively attempting to inch away from her. 

"I-It's okay, Spike…" she said softly, almost nervously. But the vampire's fear did not dissipate… His eyes remained wide as saucers, his body flexing in an almost unnatural manner so as to distance himself from her as much as possible. Definitely a turn from the collected composure he'd had only a moment ago. 

"It's all right," she said again, wishing for once in her lifetime that Spike could respond to her in English. "I'm not gonna…" she sighed, glancing at the blanket in her hand and deciding on an immediate course of action. "Look," she said, pressing the fabric to what she could see of Spike's palm. "It's soft, see…? So unless being in Hell turned you into a _complete_ wimp, this shouldn't bother you one bit."

Spike seemed to let go of his fear when the linen was brushed along his epidermis, understanding that the material was the same as the comparably pleasant fabric around his wrists and ankles. The extreme width of his eyes became more diminished, the curve in his upper-body decreasing in its severity as well. 'Okay', his relaxing seemed to say. 'Things have been pleasant so far… I'll trust you on this one… For now, at least'.

Knowing that her window of opportunity in terms of his shift in mood could quite possibly be rather slim, Buffy set to work immediately after witnessing the vampire's change in demeanour. Her hands were finely tuned instruments, wrapping her mother's bed sheets around Spike's wrists with swift precision, and securing them around the headboard just as efficiently. Within five minutes she had the vampire bound by two completely new tethers, the sheets she'd originally used discarded into a distant corner of the bedroom. 

Her mission completed, Buffy sat back with a triumphant exhalation, deciding mentally that bed sheets weren't exactly the _best_ way to tie people up despite their obvious comfort value. "All done" she said almost cheerily, not knowing where such an attitude could have been pulled from. "If you'll test out the new sheets, I think you'll find you won't be disappointed" sounding like a perfect saleswoman, Buffy added the trademark smile as well, wondering briefly if maybe she should consider such a field as her secondary career, but dismissing the thought just as quickly. 

Spike stared blankly at her in response though, obviously not understanding the significance of what she'd just done. He knew she'd changed the sheets that had been wrapped around his wrists, but the action didn't mean anything more to him. What he _had_ noticed though was the fact that although the strange creature's appendages had come in contact with his many times, and although the opportunity for her to do some damage to him had been existent throughout the entire ordeal, he was still perfectly unharmed. To say the very least he was surprised… and pleased… and truly considering the idea that he could, for some reason, _trust_ this girl. She was different from every beast that had crossed his path throughout eternity; there was something about her features that was even more than comforting, a way she treated him with tenderness that seemed sincere even though it was impossible for such to be true. She was—

Moving… Closer- Her hands…

Buffy couldn't just let him _lie_ there like that. For over a day now his arms had been contorted at that horrible angle; surely his muscles would permanently cramp up if not given the chance to stretch… And anyway, how _else_ was she supposed to feed him, right? Spike _did_ deserve to be comfortable, but Buffy was _really_ doing this for her own convenience.

Sudden panic washed over the vampire's form like a bucket of ice, causing him to go rigid, and Buffy stopped. Her hands were outstretched slightly, her body leaning more towards him, moving in to manually unfold his contorted limbs. "Hey, hey, it's okay…" she mumbled, a 'you can trust me' smile instantly tugging at the corners of her lips. "Just give me two seconds… You'll feel a lot better; trust me."

Nodding in an attempt to encourage the comparably calm composure he was maintaining, the Slayer pressed onward. She moved slowly, fluently, not pausing or flinching until her hands touched down upon their target…

Silk. Flesh so soft it could put a newborn child to shame. No one could have ever convinced her that _Spike_ of all people was capable of having an epidermis that was so delightful to the touch if she didn't feel it for herself. It was odd, to think that the creature she despised… Or, had _once_ despised so dearly, could be so… beautiful. 

_No! **Not** beautiful… God! What is with you tonight, Buffy?_ Her inner self raged. _Nothing…_ some alter ego quickly answered. _And come on… Can you really blame me? I mean, **look** at him! How many guys have **that** kind of muscle on them? Admit it… You **know** he's not exactly difficult on the eyes…_

_Fine…_ Ego #1 answered huffily. _Fine, I'll admit to him being… _she swallowed hard… _hot. But you have to swear that you are **not** thinking of him in **that** way_!

_Oh, **God** no_! 'Go Spike's Body'-Buffy answered wholeheartedly. _I mean, it's **Spike** we're talking about here. I said I liked how he looked… Not how he…** is**. _She shuddered at the very thought of _whatever_ Buffy #1 could have been suggesting. 

_Anyway!_ She thought, this time with all portions of her personality at once. _Getting back to the task at hand…_

Giving her head the subtlest shake she could manage, the Slayer cleared the sometimes-noisy voices that had set up camp in her cranium for the past few days. Her thumb giving his forearm an almost affectionate brush, furiously attempting to ignore its milky texture in the meanwhile, she then guided his wrist outward, gently untangling it from the position it had been caught in for nearly twenty-four hours.

Brow having wrinkled, the vampire oblivious to the fact that he'd even made an expression in the first place, he marvelled at the relief such a simple action had suddenly brought to his limb. Spike had been very curious about what she'd been doing at first, that small and persistent voice in the back of his head screaming that danger was finally on its way. And once again it had been snuffed out when extreme pleasure wrestled through his veins instead of pain. Realising the existence of his _other_ arm, the bleached blonde took it upon himself to unfold it, amazed for a second time when endorphins rushed through his system in response. 

He sighed with relief, eyelids fluttering closed in silent appreciation of what was perhaps the _hundredth_ wonderful thing that had occurred since he'd woken that morning. 

Buffy couldn't help but smile. "See? Told you it'd feel better…" she breathed, pausing for just one moment of silence before standing and circling the bed to the mug she'd brought upstairs. "Now, getting back to business… I hope you don't mind blood de swine; it's all we've got… I heated it up to 98.6° though, you know, since that's the way you vampires prefer it" she said light-heartedly, idly caressing the pottery as its warmth diffused through her body.

"Anyway, um" she paused, looking between the edge of the bed and her mother's ancient easy chair. With a nervous sigh, some part of her consciousness not understanding why her nerves were so shot, the Slayer finally decided to simply surrender, at which point she planted herself on the mattress. "Yeah, you're kinda gonna have to sit up for this…" she laughed nervously. "Not that you could choke on it either way, but trying to feed a vampire blood while he's laying down could get messy beyond proportions that I don't even want to _fathom_". 

This time, Buffy finally realised that her instruction for the vampire had really been for her own benefit, filling the void of silence with her voice simply for the sake of it. Giving him any time to _actually _sit up was pointless. He didn't understand her, not a _single_ word. She got that. It had been no different with Angel. 

Without a moment's hesitation, Buffy once again set down the cup of blood, and inched forward on the mattress until she was practically hovering over her peroxide-dyed guest. As gently as her deft Slayer fingers would allow her, Buffy scooped Spike's head into her hand despite the vocal and physical protest he gave. She held him steady, fingers digging into his scalp just enough to be assertive, making the Slayer happy for once in her lifetime that her fingernails routinely broke off during patrol.

Moving quickly so that her patient would not struggle further from any off-beat movements, Buffy snatched up the cup of blood for the third time that evening, and instantly brought the straw she'd added to it in line with Spike's lips. "Okay…" she sighed. "Dinner is served."

Buffy didn't know why she expected that the bleached vamp would understand what to do with the plastic device. He stared at it with a mixture of question, fear, and visceral hostility, comprehension able to be found nowhere in his features. "Great…" the Slayer grumbled. "As if this hasn't been strange or difficult enough… Now I've got to teach you how to drink out of a straw."

Beginning to feel as if her new title should be "The Chosen One: She Who Gets Royally Screwed No Matter What", Buffy brought the mug before herself, and gently took the plastic cylinder between her tender lips. "See, you just take it like this…" she said, holding the straw between her teeth as she spoke. "And suck," she instructed, her cheeks becoming concaved as she drew some of the liquid up the straw in demonstration. 

Buffy had to use every ounce of her will-power to _not_ suddenly re-locate the contents of her stomach to a more external setting while she did so. 

"Think you can handle it?" she gulped, quickly spitting out the straw and holding the vampire's dinner before him once again. 

Spike pulled the plastic utensil between his cool, satin lips at Buffy's instruction, eyeing her with suspicion. When all he received in response was an encouraging nod, he made an attempt to mimic her demonstration. Sucking both cheeks in, he reflexively drew in a breath with it, and dark crimson liquid practically erupted out of the tube. 

Buffy had assumed that when the first few droplets of his dinner splashed against his tongue, Spike would be put into a state of absolute bliss. His first taste of blood in who knew how long. But he instead spit out the straw, his eyes thrashing to a width more impressive than that of the Grand Canyon as he struggled to put as much distance between himself and the object in Buffy's hand.

Why did he always seem to be doing that? She wondered dejectedly. 

Frightened, shocked jewels of blue flickered between the porcelain mug and Buffy's confused features, a whole symphony of growls and whimpers cascading from Spike's rapidly contracting lungs. He continued to writhe and struggle, the fact that his attempts at escape were futile not seeming to register in his panic-stricken mind. 

"Spike, what's wrong? What is it?" the Slayer inquired, brows furrowed as she set the mug on the bedside table. His eyes followed the movement of the porcelain cylinder, and somehow Buffy was able to immediately comprehend his fear. The blood. He hadn't necessarily been _fed_ in Hell, but, oh God… the torture. So much blood… _his_ blood… _no wonder he's terrified,_ she thought empathetically. 

Spike continued to quiver, his sapphire crystals yo-yoing back and forth between Buffy and the damned utensil she'd attempted to use for feeding him. 

God, in some twisted way, it was heartbreaking to watch his behavior. She almost- no wait -she _did_ prefer the evil, cocky, trying-to-kill-me-on-a-daily-basis Spike to _this_. Hell, she'd rather have _stalker_ Spike occupy her home for a full month if it meant she didn't have to see him reduced to this snivelling creature. It just didn't seem a justified destiny for the leather-clad warrior who had done the selfless things that _he_ had to protect Dawn and defeat Glory, all with a satisfied smirk on his face. And expecting nothing in return. 

All it took was that one realisation. Just a little brainpower on her part, and Buffy had decided _exactly _what she was going to do for this vampire. 

Everything. 

Absolutely, positively, no questions asked, _everything_ to make sure that he was fully protected, and someday found himself in a state of complete recuperation.

A swipe of her arm, and the offending mug was cleared from Spike's vision until she could sneak it out of the room during one of his hopefully oncoming bouts of sleep. Allowing a pitying gaze to linger on the vampire for a few brief moments, the Slayer couldn't help it when just a small corner of her heart clenched in pain for him. Even though he'd done so much, sacrificed _everything_, the universe still decided to turn around and kick him in the ass. _She_ had still decided to kick him in the ass. On many, many occasions. 

Unravelling her fingers, which she wasn't aware had been nervously tangling with each other in the first place, Buffy stood up and made a break for the door, already rehearsing an excuse in her mind. "Hey guys!" she called down the stairs as the lightweight piece of timber guarding the entrance to her mother's bedroom was flung open. 

"Yes, Buffy?" came Giles' always-patient voice. 

"I think it'd be best if everyone just wrapped it up for tonight--"

A fist-pump from Xander could be seen out of the corner of Giles' still-sharp eye. 

"Unless you guys think you can forge on without me, that is!"

And the carpenter's excitement was extinguished. Ignoring the young man's routine dislike for research, Giles removed his glasses and moved to the foot of the stairs. "What's wrong, Buffy? Is everything all right up there?" he asked, a type concern written across his features that could stem from only a fatherly affection. 

"Oh yeah… Yeah, everything's great" she fibbed with a glance over her shoulder to the still deer-in-headlights-eyed Spike. "It's just, you know… all these new scents floating around, I think it's kinda freaking out our still-somehow-blonde guest" she informed her Watcher with a quirky smile. "I think someone should just stick up here with him, and being the Slayer and all…" 

"Yes, yes I understand," Giles muttered, rubbing at his eyes and looking back to survey his researching crew. A quick glance at his watch, and he was nodding in agreement. "Well it's nearly three in the morning. I suppose we ought to get going home then," he said, stifling a yawn. "We want to have some energy for researching tomorrow" he added to the rest of the group, receiving yet another deathly glare from Xander. 

Spike was making his agitation quite vocal at this point, his ears obviously stinging from the arrangements being yelled up and down the stairs. "Sounds good! Later guys!" Buffy called down the stairs. "I'll call you in the morning, Giles! Night!"

Even from her position on the couch, Dawn could hear the distinct sound of her mother's door closing. Rather abruptly, too. Making sure that nobody was really listening, the teenager then began to singsong under her breath. 

"Buffy and Spi-ike, sittin' in a tree… k-i-s-s-i-n-g…"

(Author's Note: HOLY CRAP! I think this is the LONGEST chapter I have ever written for ANY story. LoL, I'm just so proud of myself. Anyways, yeah, I finally got it posted. It's actually been finished for a while now, but I wanted to delay writing it until I at least got a jumpstart on chapter 13. So, enjoy! Oh, and because of the monstrous length of this chapter, I didn't have my beta reader go at it, just because I would consider that cruel and unusual punishment. So if there are one or two spelling mistakes here and there, I'm sorry… heh, I did my best to edit it! Welp, yeah, that's all for now! Hope you liked it, and please please please review? Or at least can I have a cookie?)


	13. Villains and Naughty Maidens

"A _puppy_? Are you kidding? We barely have enough time for Miss Kitty Fantastico with all our Scooby work, Will," Tara said with a soft smile, toying with her lover's fingers. 

"I know, but just think… a… _puppy_!" the redhead insisted, as if the petite statement explained everything. "All cute and cuddly with the tail-wagging…"

"But it would hardly be fair… I mean, cats are one thing; they can pretty much take care of themselves. But dogs are a different story" she insisted, peering into Willow's shimmering eyes. 

She seemed to deflate at that, looking down to where Tara's hands were intertwined with her own. "I know," she pouted. "It's just, I always thought it would be fun. You know, get a black lab or something cute and cuddly like that."

God, she was so irresistible like that. The way her bottom lip jutted out, looking even more nibble-able than it usually did. And that one eyebrow sort of drooped, making her look like a wounded toddler. It was the cutest thing ever. In response, Tara couldn't help it when her chin pushed forward, catching those rosy lips for a quick, caring embrace, her eyelids fluttering shut. "Don't worry, sweetie. We've got the rest of our lives ahead of us. Plenty of time to get a puppy," she grinned, eyes still closed in lazy bliss. 

"I had a puppy once… She was a bad girl though, barking all the time… But she did make a very good snack."

Tara jumped at the voice, eyes flying open to the sight of a frail-looking, dark-haired woman. Instead of a pair of emerald jewels, it seemed that staring back at her now were two dismal icebergs, eyes the colour of midnight and infinitely more haunting. She scrambled out of the embrace, sitting up and scurrying a few feet away from the black widow that had somehow taken the place of her beautiful Willow. "Wh-Wh-Who a-are… Who are _you_?" she asked, eyes narrowed in a threatening manner despite the reappearance of her stutter. 

"A little bird sent me here. Said that I must fly as quickly as I can to Sunnydale. My beautiful boy has returned, you know" she smiled, only a small portion of her sentence making any _real_ sense. "Can't have him falling into the wrong hands. He must at least be given a chance to live… Of course, the Slayer is being a very naughty girl. Rubbing her nasty fingers all over 'im. 'More pig's blood, puppy?'" the black widow practically snarled as she mocked Buffy, black tar dripping from her voice. 

"Puppy? Wh-what p-p-puppy?" Tara stuttered, instinctively creeping away from the frightening woman who had demolished a once peaceful setting. 

"My Spike. He's only just returned, and yet the Slayer wants to take him away from me already. I wish to have him back, but _she's_ not playing by the rules, tying him up all snug and warm."

Tara tried to make sense of the woman's slight gibberish. For a moment she just stared at the huntress who seemed able to create shadow under even the most direct sunlight. "Who _are_ you?" the blonde girl repeated, those three words the only ones that would come clearly to her lips at the moment. 

"I'm Drusilla," the other woman repeated, a surprising amount of pride and competence encasing her voice this time. "And I _will_ have my Spike back."

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"Sssso vampire," the demon hissed, orange eyes glowing menacingly. The red mask of skin he wore as a face stretched into a smirk. "Whichhh would you lllike…?" he then held up two utensils. One was a black cylindrical shaft, just over an inch in diameter, jet-black, its entire length littered by variously sized spikes. The other bared a slight resemblance to a ridiculously oversized fishing hook, complete even with a barb at its end. Its unique feature, however, was that it had some sort of corkscrew or drill-bit attached to the curved section, no doubt used for boring most unpleasantly through flesh and bone. Both instruments seemed to have a capacity to cause any living creature a devastating amount of damage. It just depended how many times they were stabbed with it. 

Cerulean eyes shifted nervously between each of the instruments, completely aware that no matter which was chosen first, he would eventually experience the horrid sting of _both_ devices. It was just a matter of _when_. 

Couldn't they just leave him alone for once? His feet were already charred beyond recognition, now nothing more than awkwardly shaped bundles of black and crimson, made glossy in some sections by the pus that was now oozing from every other region of blistered skin. 

And that was only the beginning. There was also the fact that almost every square inch of his back had been sliced into by a rather dull and somewhat rusty scalpel. His ears had been ripped clean off. Six of his fingers were broken, along with eight of his ribs. His body was no less a mangled wreck than it usually was, yet these disfigured creatures still hungered for more carnage. 

"What do you thhhink, Flaxxxelle?" the rose-hued beast hissed, turning to his partner. 

Green eyes met orange ones, and Flaxelle, her plasma covered navy blue skin glinting amidst the light created by Hell's inferno, plucked the hooked device from her comrade's hand. "This one," she answered in a high-pitched wheeze, black teeth showing beneath her wicked grin. She then began circling Spike, a distant squelch able to be heard as each of her fluid-covered feet was planted against the brimstone. 

Spike watched each of her movements like a frightened cub, his entire body trembling now that he appeared to be going into shock. Not to mention the fact that he was scared shitless.

Flaxelle found footing directly behind him. Her weapon was poised at the ready, well-polished metal winking in the light, when suddenly…

"**_GgAAAArrRgggghhh!  AHHHH!_**" painful cries erupted from Spike's lungs as the red-suited demon suddenly plunged his malicious weapon into the vampire's chest cavity in a surprise-attack. Agony _exploded_ in his blood vessels, shooting violently through every capillary and nerve ending that existed, his arteries clenching and pulsing, attempting to implode and explode in the same instant. 

"**_AAAARRRRRRRrrrrr!_**" he howled again as this time Flaxelle buried her weapon into his back, the corkscrew device _and_ the barb each hooking onto his spinal cord and twisting every nerve that ran up its centre. Of course, seeing as how he was in Hell, Spike's body wouldn't allow him to become totally paralysed, to be capable therefore of not even noticing every ounce of pain that streaked through him. Instead he was forced to bear it, a white screen suddenly appearing in his vision amidst the absolute anguish that stabbed through every fibre in his body. 

"**_AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH! AAAHHHH! OhhHhHH! GLLaGGLLHH!_**" he continued to howl and scream, his cries turning into slightly distorted gurgling sounds as his lungs and windpipe began to fill with blood. 

God, why couldn't he just _die_? Why, every day, did he have to awaken to this mind-blowing torture? What had he done to deserve this, to be condemned to a permanent existence that consisted _only_ of pain and suffering, if such weak words could even be used to describe the torment he experienced so continuously?

Was he really such a bad guy?

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Buffy yawned as she dropped herself back into the easy chair, droopy eyes just barely able to navigate their way back to the makeshift bed after the Slayer's short bathroom break. Curiously she eyed the radio-alarm clock on her mother's nightstand, thankful that the bright red numbers stood out so well in the pitch-black room. 4:00 am it announced, the colon that separated the number four from its additional minutes flashing coyly with every second that ticked by. 

Impressive. She'd gotten three hours of sleep already, and it wasn't even dawn yet. It had to be a new record for her since the Summers' overly blonde guest had made his initial appearance. Spike was spared a quick glance from the Californian girl as she pulled her blanket back up, tucking it beneath her chin in a tight embrace. Only then did Buffy notice the anomaly in Spike's behavior. Instead of sleeping like a true dead man- stiff, silent, and unmoving as he'd done over the past four nights -his head was now rocking back and forth, a whimper trickling from between his lips every few seconds. 

Buffy frowned at that, wondering what could possibly be going on behind Spike's closed lids to make him appear so… was he… frightened?

Well, this couldn't be _entirely_ of the good. 

Frowning, the Slayer watched as various emotions and poses danced across her comrade's face. With each second that passed away, the contortions that Spike created with his features grew increasingly violent and horrific. She was just about to stand up, to lower herself gently to the bed and attempt to offer him some kind of comfort, when the bleach-blonde's lungs suddenly burst with energy and sound. 

A roar erupted from Spike's throat, practically shattering the walls with its intensity as it ricocheted around the room. Buffy jumped twice; the first was out of surprise, the second was when she hurled herself to the vampire's side, hand immediately going over his howling mouth. 

"Spike!" she said in a tone just barely above a harsh whisper.

Spike continued to scream behind her palm, veins bulging in his neck from the effort as his head twisted from side to side. Leg muscles clenched violently as the vampire attempted to kick out, each effort falling flat as his limbs were met by their linen restraints. His back arched, lifting him off the bed. Hands were balled into tightly knit fists, bicep muscles bulging from his creamy skin as he tugged on his cotton shackles. Spike's entire body twisted back and forth in a roller coaster of uncoordinated but desperately powerful movements. 

_Those sheets aren't going to last for long… _Buffy realised, eyeing the fabric as it tried desperately to resist the immense force they were being tormented with. If she was going to keep Spike captive, she had to think fast. Luckily, five years running as a Slayer had made her a professional in that department. 

Buffy tossed away her blanket, stopping for a split second to wonder how its soft woolly goodness had managed to cling to her this far. With actions so quick that she would easily put a cobra to shame, she got to work neutralizing her opponent. Her right hand replaced her left hand over Spike's mouth, the now free limb reaching up to quickly brush away a few locks of hair that were dangling over her eyes. The next moment she moved in for the kill, left leg swinging over the vampire's upper mast as her right leg jumped up to settle on his left side. 

Now straddling her once sworn enemy, Buffy could get to work waking him up from what she could easily guess to be a recollection of his millennia spent in Hell. "Spike," she tried again, tapping his cheek gently. "Spike, wake up. You're just dreaming… It's not real; you can wake up from it… Spike!" she insisted, continuing to give his cheeks urgent little pats and shaking his right shoulder. "Spike… Spike come-" Buffy gasped. Her emerald eyes went wide for a split second, jaw dropping as a few electric waves suddenly pulsed through her.

Spike, his back arching off the bed yet again in his unyielding struggle, had just managed to grind his pelvis up and into hers, sliding up and then back along her cloth-covered opening. Although he was soft, his track pants provided next to nothing in terms of restraining the bulge at the junction of his hips. Needless to say, the Slayer had taken notice of it. Just the feel of something other than her frantic hand rubbing against her pussy after all these months was enough to send stars swirling in her vision. If she wasn't turned on before, she sure as hell _would_ be if that happened again. _Oh, God… help me… _Buffy shuddered, using every ounce of her willpower to stop from 'accidentally' going in for a second helping.

_Ugh, get a grip, Buffy! It's **Spike**… creepy stalker guy with the fangs and bumpies… and washboard abs, not to mention now his obviously impressive co—Shut up! You're being stupid! It's just all this sexual tension that you haven't been able to work out since Riley left. It's doing weird things to your brain. Focus on the task at hand. De-nightmaring Spike. _

Blinking away the dizziness that had been created when all those stars and fireflies danced into her vision, the Slayer became aware of her mission once more. "Spike, come on! Wake up! Spike!" finally fed up, instead of tapping him this time Buffy gave his shoulder a hard pinch, hoping it would do the trick. 

And it did. Creamy white shields flew upward, exposing the vampire's ocean-blue eyes to the dark of night. He looked around wildly for a few moments, head twisting from side to side as he struggled to comprehend the new images he was suddenly being barraged with. Buffy's hand came away from his mouth, and the wounded creature began sucking desperately at air, buckets of the invisible fluid being drawn into lungs that didn't actually require its presence. His brow glistened in the moonlight, the thin sheen of sweat that had accumulated there visible to the Slayer for the first time. 

"Spike," Buffy said calmly, gently but assertively taking his chin in her right hand so that he would look her in the eye. "It's all right… You're okay… It was just a dream," she smiled. "Whatever they were doing to you," she whispered, letting go of his chin to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. She brushed back his uncombed hair, her movements akin to a mother comforting an injured child. "It didn't happen."

As if to prove her point, the Slayer moved off of Spike, a deeply buried part of her screaming out that she was insane to relinquish such a wonderful position. "Look, not a mark on you" she smiled, using her eyes to indicate his unmarred chest. 

He followed her gaze, seeing that his body, which should have been a mangled mass of blood and entrails, was perfectly fine. There were no puncture wounds, no scratches or blisters... just creamy skin, dotted by two dusty pink nipples and a small crater where his navel rested. Every mark that the demons had inflicted upon him moments ago was now non-existent. 

"The magic of things that aren't real," Buffy said, grinning. Her gaze lingered upon the vampire for a few fleeting moments as she silently studied him, wondering for a moment when she had decided that Spike could be allowed to experience the more friendly side of her personality. "So," she prompted, not wanting to dive too deeply into the subject of self-reflection, something she _really_ wasn't fond of. "Do you think you can go back to sleep and manage to _not_ get yourself into anymore Hellish trouble?"

Spike continued to stare at her somewhat blankly. 

"Good," the Slayer smiled, bending over to retrieve her blanket before lifting herself off the bed. Spike whimpered in protest, beginning to grow rather fond of this apparently protective creature. "It's okay," Buffy assured him, looking back and meeting a set of pleading eyes. He looked so much like a wounded, helpless puppy. She just couldn't resist pulling her chair next to the nightstand, the four-legged piece of furniture now resting at the head of the bed rather than close to its foot. "I'm not goin' anywhere," she promised, plunking herself down and curling up beneath her blanket again. It wasn't long before the always over-tired Slayer had fallen onto that fluffy pink cloud in dreamland. 

Spike, on the other hand, remained awake for a little while longer. He wasn't thinking of anything in particular. There was nothing strange about this situation that needed to be puzzled over. Instead of thinking, he just watched. He focused on the strange creature in front of him, the one that seemed to want nothing more than to help him. When she touched him, it was gently. When she spoke, her voice was musical. She protected him from the dangers of this new yet anything but harsh world. With each moment that Spike spent in her company, he became more and more convinced that he could trust her. She wasn't lulling him into a false sense of security with plans to attack him when he didn't suspect it. She was just an anomaly who, for some reason, was on his side. 

If this animal, one he perceived as being really quite pleasing to both his eyes and heart, saw it fit to offer him her attention and aid, then… well… maybe he _wasn't_ such a bad guy after all.  

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"Mmf!"

"Tara?"

"Mhr," the blonde girl whimpered, a ghost of a frown crinkling her smooth forehead. 

"Tara, baby wake up" Willow insisted, giving her partner another shake, troubled by her apparently distressed demeanour. 

"Umf!" her eyes flew open, or as much as they could in her groggy state, and the blonde girl frantically looked around, realising soon that she was in the safety of her home. "W-Willow?" she breathed, turning around. 

"I'm right here, sweetie," the redhead assured her lover, smiling softly and planting a light kiss on her brow. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned at the look on Tara's face. 

"Yeah, I'm… I'm okay. Bad dream" she gave a quirky smile, as if she were for some reason embarrassed. 

Willow made a sort of humming noise, one that said she felt concerned for the love of her life. "Really? You wanna tell me about it?" she asked, pulling the blanket up around their shoulders and snuggling close to the other woman. 

"It's nothing, really" Tara smiled, nuzzling into her companion's neck. "You were there… we were in a field somewhere just looking up at the stars," she giggled "you were begging for me to let you have a puppy."

Willow smiled at that, her fingers idly weaving through her girlfriend's golden locks.

"But then, you weren't there anymore. There was… this woman. I-I'm pretty sure she was a vampire. Sh-she told me that she wanted Spike back. She seemed pretty serious about it, too," Tara shuddered, thinking for a moment about the endless, midnight jewels she'd stared into. Even though it hadn't been real, it was still incredibly frightening. 

Wheels were already turning in Willow's mind, alarms ringing here and there, though not with major urgency. "She didn't give you a name, did she?" 

"Y-Yeah, she did. Um," her brow creased again, only in thought this time, and the redhead at her side was positive she'd melt at how cute it looked. "I think it was… Dru something…" she said, attempting to remember the name. She thought she'd be able to remember it, because it had been anything but ordinary. 

"Drusilla…" Willow half whispered, half asked. 

"Yeah, that's it!" Tara said proudly, looking up at her lover. She frowned though, wondering about the worry that seemed to have erupted suddenly in Willow's eyes. "Is that bad?" she asked, attempting to catch the pair of wandering jewels. 

"Huh? Oh, no… I mean, it _shouldn't_ be" she said, somewhat shakily. "Drusilla is Spike's ex… They had one of those 'massacre half of North America and get off on it' relationships. But she left him. _Twice_. So I don't see why she'd want him back."

"So why was she in my dream? I mean, I don't even know who she _is_," Tara asked, thinking that either something was up, or she had an imagination that came up with _very_ odd names at the most convenient and coincidental times. 

"That's the part that worries me. I mean, I'm _sure _there's nothing _to_ worry about, but… Either way I think we should probably tell Buffy."

"Agreed. The more Slayers we have on this, the better" Tara smiled. "But… do you mind if we leave it till the morning?" she asked hopefully. 

"Of course," Willow grinned, shifting down so she was face-to-face with her beautiful companion. "Besides… I really need to catch up on my beauty sleep, what with you putting me to shame all the time."

Tara simply giggled. "I love you."

"Love you too," Willow whispered, leaning in to share a soft, sensual kiss with the woman of her dreams before they both drifted off to sleep. 

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Supple skin dropped away from a pair of glistening daggers, their ivory luminescence marred only by a few droplets of blood that refused to slip down her throat just yet. Drusilla grinned, dancing away from her latest victim with a sort of effortlessness that made it look as if she were floating on a cloud. "Mm, I wish they would all squirm," she mused to no one in particular, having killed everyone in the mobile home except its driver. She looked down to the eight-year-old girl and grinned. "Makes everything all sugary inside my tummy."

"Oh God…" the older man sobbed. "Oh, Shannon, sweetie" he choked again, desperately drying to hold in the waves of sorrow that were washing over him, and keep the vehicle on the road at the same time. 

"Ah ah ah! No slipping. I've got to get back to the sunny country before you're allowed to die," Drusilla purred, knowing that this man, like virtually every other human on earth, valued his own life enough not to commit suicide in hopes that she too would die should he decide to flip the RV, or something of the sort. 

"Please, leave me alone" the man cried, cringing just at the sound of the monster's voice. "Why don't you take the wheel…? I-I-I'll get out… Nobody will ever find you," he promised, glancing back at the woman for a brief second. He immediately turned around though, utterly and completely revolted by her disfigured features.

"Hush!" Drusilla ordered with a type of assertiveness that was only recently becoming a common characteristic. She peered out the windshield, properly masked from the sun's deadly rays that were streaming inward. A sort of dreamy look fluttered over her eyes then, and she seemed to become totally unaware of the other man's existence. "Don't worry, my love… I'll be rescuing you soon."


	14. I Will Remember You

"Buffy?" Willow inquired softly, knuckles discreetly knocking against the bedroom door. "Buff, you awake in there?"

The ruby-haired vixen waited a few moments, ear pressed to the door in an attempt to hear any of what might be happening on the other side. She was given blank results though, nothing but silence meeting her eardrums. Frowning in disappointment, she tried again, her knocking just a bit more insistent this time, but not enough that it would disturb Buffy or Spike in the event that they were still sleeping.

"Buffy? You awake in there? I-In case you can't tell it's Willow," she said with a smile, giving herself a title as if that might aid in catching the Slayer's attention. Waiting another full moment, she was once again disappointed, receiving not even a whimper in response.

"She still sleeping?" Tara asked gently from her perch on the staircase, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Willow had been stopped dead by the sound of her lover's voice, half-fist poised in the air, only two inches away from performing another round of knocking. She puffed a disheartened breath of air through her nose as she turned to face the blonde girl, mouth drooping so that her face was in its classic 'darn, this isn't going right' pose, its effect trimmed with gold when she gave a subtle shaking of her head. "Nope… not a single peep."

Tara practically melted in her Dalmatian socks; if there was one thing she could always count on from Willow, it was to be irresistibly adorable. "Aw, honey, it's okay. After all it was just a dream… I'm sure it can afford to wait another hour- another _day_ even," she said in an attempt to comfort her dear lover, convincing smile unfolding between her cheeks.

"Yeah, I… I guess you're right" Willow nodded, half-smiling. "It's just… The whole Drusilla thing has got me kinda freaked, what with her appearing in _your_ dream, even though you don't know who she is… Y-you've never even been given rough _details_ about her, let alone whole plot lines."

Tara smiled again in light of Willow's further cuteness. Hey… she couldn't help it. "I know… but, just think of it this way. Drusilla's a vampire, and it's daytime. So, technically, if she poses any sort of threat to us, nothing's gonna happen for at least ten hours or so."

The redhead sighed at that, her anxious nerves signalling their defeat. "Yeah…" she smiled. "Again with the rightness." She looked to the side of her girlfriend, as if about to verbalize some ancient piece of wisdom. "Tara: ever the voice of reason in my crazy life" she fixed her gaze on the woman before her again. "Beautiful _and_ smart… I don't think there's a better combination," she grinned.

Ducking her head bashfully, the blonde girl dared to meet her opponent's eyes with the same cheeky grin. "Look who's talking."

Gracefully darting down the few steps that separated her from the girl of her dreams, Willow brushed a soft kiss across her lover's lips. "You're so… loveable."

"Oh yeah?" Tara asked with raised eyebrows, gaining back a bit of the courage that had been taken away by the other girl's original compliment. "Well… you're _cute_," she countered playfully, giggling as she poked the redhead's nose.

As if horribly offended, her eyes went wide, mouth dropping open. "You _dare_ say such things in my presence? For that you _must_ pay," Willow said menacingly, raising a pair of clawed fingers, signalling to Tara that immense tickling was about to begin.

"Oh, oh no," she said in fear, already in the process of turning and running down the stairs.

"Stop, vile woman! There is no escaping me… My powers of tickling make thin air out of walls and concrete, no matter how thick or sturdy!" the redhead announced, trotting after her down the stairs. "Dawn!" she called out to the teenager who had welcomed them into the Summers' residence in the first place. "Tara's trying to escape the Tickling Avenger! Cut her off if she tries to escape!"

"No Dawnie! You're on _my_ side, remember?" Tara called out desperately, rounding the post at the bottom of the stairs and dashing into the living room. "The Teaspoon Sisters? The Tea Time Maniacs? You and _me_ Dawn! Don't forget!"

Before she could get very far though, Tara was hit from behind by a pair of talon-like, horribly tickling hands. She let out a piercing scream, and fell to the floor in defeat.

¤------------------------------------------------------¤

"There's our Mr. Sleepy-Head," Buffy said softly yet cheerfully, her solemn mood lightening when her patient finally surfaced from his unconscious state. "I was getting scared that you weren't going to wake up. If this were a hundred years ago, I wouldn't be so concerned, but since today is a special one, it wouldn't have been entirely of the good if you'd stayed knocked out. And not just because you'd have missed my wonderful company," she smiled brightly, giving Spike's chest a soft pat.

"It's been quite some time since I've been allowed to see you," she sighed, dipping her same millennia-old sponge in her glass bowl, which was just as old. Leaving most of the fluid within its chambers, she spread the icy liquid over her patient's chest, beginning the process of healing his horridly wounded ankles, the last part on his body that needed her attention. "You see, they took me away a long time ago, because the _real_ me was getting ready to bring you back to life. So, the price was that you'd have to live through a few more centuries of Hell without me being there to heal you every day."

Spike stared at her with blank eyes, practically ignoring the fact that the seared flesh on his ankles was healing by the second. Of course, it helped that for once, his wounds weren't actually real. Just part of the charade.

Seeing that her job as nurse was done, Buffy tossed her utensils away, glass bowl and sponge disappearing into the black abyss that surrounded them. She scooted forward on the bed then, so that her hips were in line with Spike's, and she could look at him with a more impacting gaze. Taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze to make sure she had his attention, the guardian angel began to speak at a fevered pace.

"Now Spike, you have to listen to me. I'm not sure how much time we've got here, so it's important that you pay attention to everything I'm saying," her emerald eyes searched his for some sign of understanding. She wasn't sure if what she saw was comprehension, or a blank stare.

"Bad things are coming to Sunnydale" she paused, thinking about the obviousness of her statement. "Well, bad things are_ always_ coming to Sunnydale. But this is _especially_ detrimental. Buffy- the real Buffy –is going to need help fighting them. But her friends aren't going to be there to help her this time, so it's going to be up to _you_ to help win this fight for her."

Releasing the hold she had on his hand, the manufactured Buffy moved even farther forward, this time pressing her palm against his cheek. "Spike, you have to remember. You have to remember who you are. I know it's been burned out of you by thousands of years spent here, in Hell. But you, the _real_ you… Mr. Cocky, Badass Vampire… William the Bloody… all of that is still there. You just have to dig deep, reach into the farthest caves of your mind to re-discover who you are. Remember the bleached hair" she stroked his falsely blond locks. "Remember your leather jacket and all-black ensemble. Remember those old clunky boots you've worn for the past eight earth years. Remember that you're a fighter, a creature of the night, a lover, a passionate man with a startling sense of self. Remember who you are, Spike. William. You once lived; you were taken down in a way that you shouldn't have been, and now you've been given a second chance. So regain your identity, Spike. Take back what's yours."

Buffy paused for only a moment. She wanted so badly to give him the time he needed to absorb all this information, but it was doubtful how much longer she'd have to talk to him. "But also," she started, eyes boring deeply into his as she continued to hold his face in her palm. On pure impulse, she leaned forward then, and brushed her lips against Spike's in a perfect re-creation of the kiss he'd been offered by the original Buffy Summers after being torn to shreds by Glory and her minions. "Remember _me_, Spike. Remember my lips, my soft, 'shampoo-commercial hair', my silken skin," using her free hand, she directed Spike's fingertips to each feature as she listed it off, hoping that it would awaken some lost memories in the back of his consciousness. "Remember my snappy comebacks and bratty sister, and the way it feels when I smile at you in that true, sincere way. Remember that I'm the Slayer, and you're the vampire who… who fell in love with me. Remember me…" she guided his hand to her cheek, allowing it to slide over just a few centimetres of her skin before moving it to rest over her heart. "Remember Buffy… Buffy…"

Spike nodded, somehow understanding even half of what she was trying to tell him. Gently shaking off her hand, he moved to cup her cheek as she still did so to his, and for the first time in… it was impossible to tell how long… he smiled. And, the vampire did something amazing. His lips pressed together, he drew in a breath of air, and said for the first time in thousands of years, "Bu--"

¤------------------------------------------------------¤

"Okay, I have no idea how I managed that," Buffy said with a triumphant puff of air, wiping away the two beads of perspiration that had formed on the bridge of her nose. Both hands resting against her hips, she looked down at her creation with a sense of accomplished, improvised innovation.

Spike was still tied to the bed with the Summers' more frowned-upon linens. He was still sleeping, tumbling through who-knew-what kinds of dreams. His alabaster skin was still perfectly unmarred. What was different, however, was the fact that laying beneath him was a thin, poorly-constructed bed of saran wrap. Instead of soft cotton sheets, he was now sleeping on a mini-mattress of Super-Chef Cling Wrap- the 'plastic wrap that makes you feel _good_ about leftovers'.

"Buffy one, tricky plastic wrap, zero," she stated triumphantly, proud that she had been crafty enough to come up with this creation. If she couldn't bring Spike to the bathtub, she would bring the bathtub to him. Of course, everything about this idea just spelled out 'catastrophic mess', but she wasn't going to risk untying him.

"Of course now, this means I'm doomed. There's no way I went through all this trouble to _not_ give him a bath," she muttered, hands on her hips. "But… hello to the awkwardness," a little shudder went down the Slayer's spine when she thought of all Spike had confessed to her before he'd died… and she ignored the little twinge of excitement that followed alongside the discomfort.

It turned out though that for the most part, the process of sponging down her mortal enemy wasn't as difficult as she'd foreseen. Spike slept like a log throughout the whole ordeal, meaning she didn't have to do much more than lift an arm here, and balance a leg there. He didn't stir once, not even when she had to wedge half her arm beneath him so as to wash his back. The only obstacle she ran into was the waistband on his grey sweatpants. When it came to entering his male territory, Buffy found herself completely lost.

On one hand, it would give her a chance to finally quench the curiosity that had been running through her veins about just _what_ Spike looked like naked. But on the other hand, the idea was just… _creepy_. Once again though, her curiosity was almost overwhelming. Maybe, if she got a look at him, she would be able to come up with some snide remarks the next time he tried boasting about his manliness. There were reasons not to bother with what was beneath his waistbands, but there were good reasons to go along with the insanity.

Before her brain could over-think the idea, the Slayer's eyes were darting toward the bedroom door, making sure she'd latched the lock on it. Dipping her sponge into the little plastic bucket, she readied it for another pass over his alabaster skin. _Okay, Buffy…_ she prompted herself_. It's now or never._

With a deep breath, the Slayer slipped her fingers beneath the loose elastic of his pants, and pulled.

"Oh…" she muttered breathlessly, mouth instantly going dry. She let go of the grey cloth of his pants, and took a step back, gaze washing over the vampire's form in a cascade of amazement.

Even though she'd already seen practically all there was to see, the vision of Spike au natural was astounding. Every inch of his body was a pure work of art, not a single fraction of it seeming to have been thrown in carelessly. Her cheeks didn't go red at the full sight of his body, nor did her eyes shy away. This wasn't something embarrassing to look at, because it was an example of pure, masculine beauty. She wouldn't be able to explain it any other way.

Blinking a few times, more or less forcing the sight of his body from her mind for even fractions of a second, the Slayer felt herself fall back to earth. Sitting down lightly on the edge of the bed, her hand began floating toward the supple flesh of his inner thigh, sponge shielding her skin from any direct contact. Her strokes were soft and languid, washing away invisible yet week-old sweat layer by layer.

In the end she avoided going near his exposed package, deciding that touching it, even through the sponge, would be going too far. But it _had_ captured her attention, on more than one occasion and for more than just a few seconds at a time. She just couldn't help herself… it was the first time she'd gotten a good look at that piece of cylindrical flesh that most men worshipped so unconditionally. Riley had always been too modest to show it off, and Angel… well, there were obvious barriers that had stopped Buffy from exploring his physical attributes.

Securing the waistband of Spike's pants once again, Buffy just sat at his feet for a few moments, contemplating what had just happened. Her brain shut down every time though, failing to comprehend much more than the fact that she'd just given a sponge bath to her sworn enemy. Mental barriers, although frequently handy in the Slayer's case, could be so frustrating sometimes.

"_Ahhh_! Tara! No!" Dawn suddenly shrieked from downstairs, her voice slicing into Buffy's consciousness and causing her to jump at the sound. Eyes pinned to the bedroom door, a brief moment of worry washed over her at the sound of her sister's screaming. But when it was followed by the faint sound of giggling, the Slayer relaxed. Not expecting that the sound had been enough to startle the dead-to-the-world vampire, she was surprised a second time to see what his eyes were in fact open. Wide open.

Spike's blue eyes were darting feverishly around the room, not understanding any of what he was seeing. Only two moments ago he had been trapped in an endless black hole, with nothing around him except a bed, and a beautiful woman. But now there was colour and light… there were scents and sounds digging into his skull.

Where was he? What was going on? Where did that…-?

It was then that he caught sight of the linen shackles around his risks, and suddenly everything came back to him. He was being held captive by a creature who treated him with unusual kindness, in a building that was always warm and comfortable.

"Spike?" Buffy ventured carefully upon seeing him take a break from frantically looking around.

His eyes flickered in the direction of the voice, and when they landed upon Buffy's radiant form, he finally made the connection. It was her… the woman from his dreams who healed his wounds and tried her best to protect him from Satan's minions. But… at the same time, it _wasn't_ her.

This girl was strong and fierce in the most caring way. She was assertive with him at times, and loving in other instances, while managing to keep him under control without ever hurting him.

The other world had just been a dream, the other girl nothing more than an illusion of his mind now that he'd seemingly escaped from Hell. But that sound was still tugging at his consciousness, the word she'd shaped while holding his hand against her heart.

Something lost deep down within him bubbled to the surface just then, and he realised something about that sound. It was carnal knowledge in a very human sense. The sound… the word… it was significant in so many ways because of what it was, what it meant.

It was her name.

Swallowing back an ounce of saliva, the vampire moistened his long-unused vocal chords, and tried again to say what he almost had before being ripped out of his dream. Connecting with the soft, concerned gaze of Buffy, the apparition of what could be considered a smile appeared upon his features.

"Buffy."

The sound was just above a whisper, and when it crept from between his lips, Spike said it with a certain amount of relief, as if he'd finally come home after a long, taxing crusade.

Eyes that had been soft and welcoming suddenly became frozen. Buffy's entire body went numb, as if every muscle had simply slipped away, leaving her motionless. She wasn't gasping for air or falling over backwards… but the Slayer sat there in her quiet way, staring at Spike the way she always did when something failed to make sense in her mind.

After a long blink, and a few failed attempts, she finally managed to stutter out a word or two. "What… What did you say?"

Spike's grin widened when he saw the shocked, yet faintly pleased expression on his captor's face. "Buffy…" another word shoved its way into his consciousness then, and he frowned. He wasn't sure what this next sound was, but it was practically twinned with her name. "Buffy… Summers," he said with a hint of a nod, eyes still pinned to the girl, seeking her approval.

"Oh my God," she breathed after another long pause. "Oh my God, you know who I am? You remember my name?" she practically bounced off the bed with excitement.

This was a sign that she hadn't been wasting her time. It was only her name, but it was a sign that Spike was finally starting to remember… _something_ about who he was. God, but how to keep the memories coming? They were no doubt buried so deep within him… how could she shake them free?

Wait a minute.

_Wait_ a minute! Of course! The answer was so simple! It had been staring her in the face for so long now, she'd forgotten it had even existed.

Tara.

Her psychic abilities.

Maybe… _hopefully_… she could do some sort of psychic thing to help unlock Spike's memories.

If she could, then… they could have Spike back within _days_.

"Buffy" Spike said again, proudly. He enjoyed that pleased glint the other creature got in her eye whenever he said it. Hell, so far he was enjoying _everything_ about her. She was even better than the other one, the one who appeared when he slept. This one had character; she had spice and flare. Best of all though, she didn't seem to be interested in hurting him.

"I know, Spike. I know," the Slayer smiled appreciatively, encouraging him as best she could amidst her excitement. She wanted to keep him going… she wanted him to get better.

Right now.

"And…" she said cautiously, forcing the thought to switch over in her brain from a bad idea to a good idea. "I think it's time we went downstairs."

¤------------------------------------------------------¤

Tarella sat in the same comfortable chair she'd been in when Buffy had visited, lounging into it as she watched the big-screen television before her. "I think it's time we went downstairs," Buffy said with a full amount of certainty, eyeing Spike with a neutral gaze, just the tips of a smile clinging to her lips.

Upon seeing that, the Power flicked off the screen and just smiled to herself, looking at the door through which Orotus had disappeared only seconds ago. "Score two for the good guys."


	15. Plan B

Really, she could have just left him tied up in the bed. There was no reason for her to remove his cotton shackles, and risk him turning loose on her family and friends. But for some reason, Buffy just couldn't have them coming in here. The idea of Tara and Willow and Dawn visiting this room was almost blasphemous in her mind, but Buffy still could not understand _why_ she felt that way. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it just seemed like a very personal place now. Even though he'd been out of his mind since his return, she and Spike had shared some very unique experiences in this room, and to have other people intrude on that would just be… wrong. Then again, maybe in the far recesses of her mind, Buffy just didn't want anyone else to see Spike shirtless. Either way, she knew what she thought, and nothing was going to tell her otherwise.

So of course, Buffy now stood near the head of the bed, hands poised over the knots she'd made around Spike's wrists, assuring herself that she was making a one hundred percent _okay_ decision. "Here goes nothing," Buffy muttered to herself, looking at Spike, and knowing just from the look in his eyes that he wouldn't try anything to hurt her.

One shackle was loosened and removed. Seconds later, both of his wrists were free. Within two minutes, all four of Spike's limbs had re-acquired their freedom of movement, having had it stolen from them over a week ago. His chest was covered by the soft fabric of an old pyjama t-shirt, the faded logo indistinguishable.

Buffy sat beside him, knowing that even if she knew what to say in order to prepare him for the experience of meeting her companions, he wouldn't be able to understand it. Instead, the Slayer found herself doing something she could have never expected. Her hand crept across the few inches of mattress that separated them, and she ever so gently twined her fingers with his.

Not understanding the action, Spike gave her a surprised look when he felt her flesh touch his.

Buffy smiled, feeling somewhat like she was dealing with a five-foot-ten infant. "I just want you to know, Spike," her other hand reached over to stroke the back of his now upturned hand. "That you're safe inside this house. I'm not going to hurt you, and I won't let anyone else hurt you."

Attempting to solidify her point in his mind somehow, she gave his hand a tight squeeze, enough to demonstrate her strength without hurting him.

This seemed to get through to Spike, and he nodded. "I trust you," his eyes said, the little squeeze he gave back a sign of the faith he had in the girl.

"Shall we then?" Buffy smiled cheerfully. She stood up, hand still locked with Spike's as he began following her toward the bedroom door. "Oh! And, I invite you in" she said, remembering at the last second the barrier Tara and Willow had installed around the walls of her mother's bedroom. The last thing she wanted right now was for him to slam into some strange, invisible barrier.

Spike walked cautiously alongside her, eyeing every object suspiciously, always looking back to his leader for any signal that danger might be ahead. She gave him only smiles and encouraging tugs on his arm, however, and so he followed.

"It's okay. Remember, no one's going to hurt you, okay?" the Slayer said as she continued leading Spike down the stairs, taking them one at a time, both feet planting upon the wooden treads before continuing to the next one.

Willow, in the living room, heard the soft pads of feet on the stairs. She looked toward them, and back to her two comrades. "Is that Buffy?" Willow frowned.

"I think so," Dawn said, her face wrinkling also. "Is she talking to herself?"

Unable to even comprehend the notion that the Slayer would perhaps be followed by their peroxide prisoner, the two witches could do nothing but nod with the same concerned expressions.

"I knew it," the teenager said with a wry laugh, getting up from her seat and starting toward the stairs. "I tried telling everyone, but they would never believe me. My sister is a schizoph…" she trailed off then, the final two syllables of her sentence turning into a sort of gasping, gulping noise.

All three people froze then. Spike stopped dead in his tracks, every muscle in his body tensing for an attack that was far from headed his way. Buffy halted her motions in accordance with the vampire, and Dawn was simply stunned motionless.

Tara looked at her lover when the brunette's ranting march toward the stairs came to an abrupt finish. "Dawn?" the blonde witch asked, "are you okay?"

Unable to take her eyes off the vampire, the former Key just waved a rubbery arm in the air, motioning for her two friends to join her in the foyer. A little frightened, but intrigued nonetheless, the pair of girls followed the command. When they caught sight of what Dawn was staring at, they too became frozen in time, unable to believe that their eyes weren't fooling them.

"H-hey guys," Buffy smiled, being the first to tear through the blanket of silence hanging heavily in the air. "Um… Spike had a bit of a breakthrough, and… lost memories with the being dead… good idea to, y'know, re-introduce him to everyone," she smiled, the scattered message making some form of sense in her friends' minds.

"Wow…" Dawn breathed, wondering if she hadn't actually woken up yet. Maybe she was still tucked in her bed, and just dreaming this. "Willow…"

Not affected by the spectacle before her to the point where her senses were numbed, the redheaded girl turned in response to Dawn's voice. "Yeah?"

"Pinch me…"

"No, you're not dreaming, Dawn," Tara offered softly. "Spike really is standing at the top of the stairs with your sister."

"Okay," the brunette teenager squeaked. "Just… wanted to make sure. I think I'll go sit down now," she said, not wanting to topple over in the event that her knees gave out. Dawn's limbs wouldn't obey though, so she remained welded to her spot in the front hallway. This was the first time she'd gotten a _good_ look at Spike since he… and, well, she wasn't going to walk away from it that easily.

"I guess I should have said something before coming down," Buffy gave a dry, nervous laugh. "Guess it's too late for that though" she said quietly, feeling strangely uncomfortable with her friends and family staring at her that way.

Noticing that Spike appeared equally agitated at his current location, Tara pressed a soft hand to each of her comrade's shoulders. "We'll um, go wait for you in the living room, Buffy. Let Spike come down the stairs," she gave her characteristic shy grin before ushering both women into the other room. It took a bit of effort to get Dawn moving, as if the girl's feet were being weighed down by bags of cement. But eventually she followed, stumbling away in a daze and flopping down into one of the couches.

Meeting a pair of wide eyes when she turned around, the Slayer offered her most supportive smile to a freaked-out vampire. "It's okay, Spike. You know them. Dawn and Willow and Tara. You even heard them saying your name, didn't you?"

Blank fright was all she got in return.

A little smile flickered between her cheeks as she remembered just how useless her talking was. Reasserting her grip on his hand, Buffy started her legs moving again, trailing slowly down the stairs with her vampire in tow.

Hours seemed to pass by before the pair were ready to enter the room where both witches and the tiny Summers were waiting. "Hey guys," Buffy smiled flatly, wondering how it looked for her to be holding the bleached blonde's hand, but knowing she couldn't let go of it. "Um, just so you know, I haven't gone _completely_ insane. Spike made a bit of a breakthrough this morning, and now I'm thinking that I could use your help," she said weakly, the last part directed more toward her friends. "And, Dawn, could you maybe save your tackling of Spike until he's a little more comfortable around you?"

Damn her sister's fun-spoiling telepathic mind. "Kay," she said with a little more acceptance than she liked. But she stayed planted in her seat nonetheless, eyes still locked onto her surrogate big brother.

"What did you need our help with, Buff?" Willow inquired, eyes not able to decide which of the blonde subjects to lock on.

"Well… to be honest, I'm not even sure it's possible…"

¤+¤

"Whoa," Willow said with sky-high eyebrows. "You're right, that… does sound impossible."

Not even realising that she did it, Buffy stroked the back of Spike's upturned hand, disappointed that her remedy for his situation was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. "I know. I just thought maybe it was worth a shot," she shrugged her shoulders, unable to do so without her upper arms rubbing against Spike's.

They were seated side-by-side on the couch, fingers still intertwined. Buffy was relaxed as she spoke to her friends, every now and then one of her digits stroking back and forth along his flesh. It was strange that the Slayer would be so laid-back though, what with Spike nestled up against her, clinging to her for protection as his gaze flitted like a hummingbird over each of the three other girls.

"No, Buffy… it _sounds_ impossible," Willow asserted, re-stressing one of her words.

"But it isn't," Tara added thinking along the same path as her lover.

"You mean you can actually do it?" Buffy sat up a bit, accidentally signalling the vampire to follow suit. "It's okay, Spike…" she said patiently to him, pressing the undead creature back into his slouched position.

"Well, I think so. When we say that it's possible, we mean it in the sense that there is a spell that would work, it just depends on whether we're actually capable of doing it or not," Willow said factually, not wanting to get her best friend's hopes up.

"What we could do is basically a form of guided meditation, with some hypnotisation mixed in. For example, I would connect to Spike's consciousness, become sort of a conduit, and then Willow would lead us through his mind and hopefully unlock his lost memories," Tara explained, simplifying the process as best she could.

"Of course, the dangerous part is that if performed incorrectly, we could all end up as human vegetables," Willow said with the laugh she always used when attempting to look on the bright side of a bad situation.

"Oh…" the bubble of excitement that had inflated within the Slayer popped, and she sat back with Spike.

"But, when you think about it… being your friend is dangerous enough as it is. Master vampires, huge reptiles, countless Hell beasts… a spell like this is practically a walk in the park. Not to mention the fact that we didn't bring Spike back just so we could wait forever before he finally got all of his memory back," Willow smiled. "So, what are we waiting for?"

"Willow… I couldn't ask you to" Buffy protested, even though the selfish part of her was jumping for joy at her friend's acceptance of the task.

"Shh!" the redhead silenced her. "I will hear no more of your blabbering. Besides… I have full faith that Tara can manage to not screw this up," she said, looking to her partner playfully. "Just one question though… what do you think Giles is gonna say about all of this?"

¤+¤

"You really _are_ insane, aren't you?" Rupert Giles blurted out, removing his glasses instantly. "Good Lord, Buffy… sometimes I wonder if maybe you've had a few too many knocks to the head. I mean, of all your ludicrous plans, this one is by _far_ the most… reckless and, and, and downright silly!" he rambled, father-like eyes boring into hers.

"Yeah, 'cause you know, going head-to-head with Glory was one of my most intellectually brilliant moments," she said sarcastically, hands crossed before her in full defensive mode.

"This is hardly the same scenario. You had no choice _but_ to fight Glory. But there is nothing that says you need to be putting Willow and Tara in danger for the sake of Spike," Giles insisted, arms flailing wildly as he pointed in the witches' supposed direction.

"Well what else am I supposed to do, Giles? Just wait for him to get his memory back? That could take _months_… We didn't bring Spike back so that we could-"

"Why exactly _did_ you bring him back, Buffy?" Rupert interrupted, thoughtful gaze upon her.

"What?" Buffy hiccupped, eyebrow cocking at his strange question.

"It's not as if we _need_ him. True, as an ally he is very helpful, but we've handled many battles without his help before," he pointed out. "So why bring him back?"

Eyes hooded, the Slayer stared at her feet for a moment, contemplating whether she should make an attempt at supporting the lie he already saw through. "I owed him, Giles," her lips moved unexpectedly, accompanied by a voice. Well, it was worth a shot. Maybe she'd fool herself in the process. "I mean, yeah, he freaked me out with the infatuation thing, but it doesn't take away from the fact that he saved the world. He promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world, but he did even more than that. I… I couldn't just let him rot in Hell," Buffy said quietly, gathering the courage to look her Watcher in the eye.

Giles took this information in stride, closing his eyes and setting his glasses back upon the bridge of his nose. "Are you sure that's the only reason he's alive again?" he asked quietly, kindly.

"I'm sure," Buffy insisted, her voice almost desperate. "God, why does doing something for someone else have to be such a big thing? Spike has saved our asses so many times, who's to say we might not need him again?" danger glinted in her eyes, the fiery blonde girl not understanding what it meant to back down from a challenge.

"Look, Buffy" Rupert whispered, hooded eyes lifting. "I'm not disappointed that… Well… If you saw fit to bring him back, I won't argue. But you've been spending an awful lot of time with him, and I just want to make sure that-"

"I'm not falling in love with him or something demented like that?" the Slayer cut him off, lop-sided grin accompanying her cocked eye. "Giles, he just got out of Hell. I don't know about you, but it seems to me like someone would need an awful lot of help recuperating after that. All I've been doing is making sure that Spike gets his strength back. Nothing. Else."

Giles searched his Slayer's eyes for a hint of a lie, some tiny piece of evidence that she was covering something up. He found nothing. "All right. But as far as Willow and Tara doing this spell goes, I'm completely against it. Spike will just have to deal with getting his memory back the same way Angel did."

Buffy clenched her jaw, mind suddenly filled with voices. Giles was right; how could she even think of putting Tara and Willow in danger? Screw it; they'd do the spell anyway. Angel. "Fine," she blurted out. "I'll go tell Willow and Tara then…" she said monotonously. "Are you coming inside?" her thumb jerked toward the front door, voice lifting a bit as the conversation steered toward more neutral ground.

"No, no I think not. I'm expecting a call from a Watcher stationed in Greece who may have some information about our obscure demon clan," Giles replied politely, wishing their meeting didn't have to end off on such an awkward note.

"Wait, isn't it like, 2 am over there by now?" Buffy asked with a quirky grin.

"Yes, but if you haven't noticed yet, we Watchers keep rather odd hours. Duty comes before sleep and food and all other luxuries enjoyed by the average human being. It's in the handbook," Giles said with a touch of his subtle humour, maintaining an almost serious face.

Buffy just smiled. "Well, good luck with that then. I'll see you tomorrow, Giles."

"Good night, Buffy."

"Crap," the Slayer whispered under her breath when all that was left of her Watcher was a pair of glowing taillights. Turning around, she headed back inside, door opening and… almost slamming into Willow and Tara. "Hey guys," Buffy said with a wry grin, eyeing her friends suspiciously.

"So, what happened?" Tara asked in a hopeful yet pessimistic tone.

"Yeah… we tried listening through the door, but discovered that two inches of wood isn't the best acoustic material," Willow said with a chipper laugh.

Buffy just smiled at her friends' quirkyness. "Well, Giles is definitely a no-go on it. He's not down with the whole putting-you-in-danger thing," she said, trying to look okay with the decision. But on the inside, she'd collapsed with disappointment.

"Oh, so… it's on to Plan B then?" Willow quipped, glancing at Tara.

"Plan B," the blonde agreed, and both of them turned to Buffy.

"Plan B?" she said blankly, eyebrows cocked in question.

"Plan B" the redhead confirmed. "We don't tell Giles, but do it anyway."

"Don't… Giles anyway tell do?" Buffy stuttered, glancing between her friends, still confused with this sudden development.

"Yep! We've already got everything set up in your room" Willow grinned, eyes glittering with pride over her craftiness. "I… hope you don't mind."

"Wh… Um… no, not at all… I just… are you guys sure you wanna go through with this? I mean, Giles seemed pretty wigged out by the danger factor."

"Buffy, you're talking to the girl who pulled you out of a coma. I'm sure we can handle unlocking a few doors in Spike's mind," she countered, dismissing any reason for worry.

"Yeah… hey, wait a second. Why is doing this more dangerous than what you did with me? I mean, isn't it pretty much the same thing?" Buffy said, pouncing upon the idea. She still didn't get why doing that to her had been such an immediate decision, whereas in Spike's case, Giles didn't even want to consider it.

"Well, tapping into the minds of demons is a little different. Humans' life forces are projected… kind of like a halo of light surrounding your body, so it's easy to tap into. With vampires, you actually have to dig into their consciousnesses, and in this case some of their essence even takes up shop in the conduit's mind. So, if the spell is interrupted or performed incorrectly…" Tara trailed off from her already long-winded speech.

"Kablooey," Willow finished off so her friend wasn't left hanging.

Buffy just stared at her informants for a moment, again trying not to tip the scales between being excited that they were willing to go through with it, and being frightened out of her wits. "So… all the more reason _not_ to do it then, right?"

"Right, but… Look Buffy… We want to do this, okay? Not for Spike, and not entirely for you… But just because we _know_ that more sooner than later, we're _gonna_ need his muscle around here," the red haired girl said in a calm, matter-of-fact way.

"But Willow I couldn't live with myself if-"

"Bottom line is," she cut the Slayer off politely. "It only takes three people to do this spell. Tara, Spike, and me. If you wanna be there for it, all the more power to ya. If you don't, then you don't. Either way it's gonna happen."

It didn't take long for the warrior's mind to analyse the proposal. "Well in that case… I'd say it's better to have a Slayer present than not, so…" Buffy crossed her arms, looked between each of her comrades, and smiled. "When do we start?"

¤+¤

"Hey there" Buffy addressed Spike as she slipped into the bedroom, wearing a friendly but narrow smile. A warm mug of blood was clasped between her hands. "We're almost ready to start. Willow and Tara said that you should probably eat something beforehand though. To get your strength up."

The vampire's response was as she expected it to be. A blank stare. Though it was an improvement, considering the fact that only days ago he'd closely resembled one of the hundreds of snarling beasts she'd annihilated over her slaying years.

Circling the chair that had become her makeshift bed, the blonde girl plopped herself down instead onto the mattress, hips just a few centimetres away from her companion's. "I'm not sure if it'll be enough, but this is all the pig's blood we've got left" she apologized, looking down into the container as if wishing for more liquid to appear. "It's not really one of those things I'm used to putting on the shopping list," she laughed softly, looking up.

A little gasp sputtered through her lips.

While she'd been staring down into his dinner, Spike had managed to inch his way closer to her. Black denim itched against the cotton fabric of her track pants. Striking features hovered before hers, brilliant sapphire eyes drilling into her surprised emerald ones. "Um, Spike?" she said, voice wrinkled. "It's about the oxygen thing… You wouldn't mind maybe movin' back a bit so I could get some, would you?"

No answer. Not a smidgen of evidence that he'd even _heard_ what she'd said. Instead he just continued to stare at her, entire body motionless. It was then that she noticed something had changed in him. That light behind his eyes was no longer blank and uncomprehending… it was… _hungry_.

Little alarm bells began ringing in her mind, Slayer senses not enjoying everything about this situation. She would have tried moving away, but for some reason the rest of her body would not obey any such commands. Her hips were glued in place with an adhesive more powerful than anything her instincts could come up with to combat it. "Spike?" her voice scratched, wishing for perhaps the first time in her life that the vampire could speak, and explain just _what_ was going through his mind.

For once though, there was almost nothing going through his mind. Nothing except the idea that he was hungry, and _somehow_ this creature was the cure for that affliction. Nostrils flared as he drank in her scent, mind intoxicated by the flowery musk that assaulted him. The steady beat of a drum echoed between his ears, and something beneath her skin was pulsating in time with it.

His eyes locked upon one throbbing region on her neck. It was an invisible line trailing from her ear and disappearing where her shoulder began. That was it. _That_ was his target.

"Are you okay?" Buffy choked again, becoming even more nervous as that glint behind his eyes transformed into a raging inferno.

Spike responded to her question not with words, but with one swift movement and a hungry growl. He tackled her to the bed, knocking the mug of pig's blood from her hand, the crimson liquid spilling out onto the floor. Buffy squealed as her head hit the mattress, his legs instantly straddling her and one hand pinning her right shoulder down.

"Spike, what the… what the _Hell_ are you doing?" she barked, emerald eyes angry as they bore into his skin.

At that moment he transformed into his vampire visage. His satin flesh remoulded into smooth ripples like ones on an ocean floor. Harmless human teeth became deadly razors, his sapphire blue eyes attaining a yellow glow.

He smiled.

Without providing her a single moment to fight back, his lips descended onto her neck. They gave her jugular an open-mouthed kiss, tongue lolling out and sliding along her crystal clear skin. He suckled for a moment before his pointed canines descended upon her, Buffy letting out a little yelp as his fangs penetrated her for the first time.

"Oh! Spike, ow… Spike" she attempted to protest. Her hands came up, but instead of fighting him off, they pressed harmlessly into his chest, entire body having instantly gone weak as he began to drain the life force from her.

When the first drop of her blood struck his tongue, the vampire became lost in his lust. He growled, clasping her firmly against him, and began taking long, deep gulps. The fluid washed down his throat and raced straight to his central nervous system, its aphrodisiac effects instantly drowning him.

Buffy mewled, a sound that started out as a scream in her head but was transformed by his pleasured growl. She tried instead to get a grip around his biceps, but again her hands just squeezed rather than pushed. "Spike…" she whispered huskily, a last desperate attempt to protest his invasion of her personal space. Eyes rolling back in her head, she began to succumb to the black haze of pleasured pain that surrounded her.

Spike grunted, pelvis dipping down and into hers. The Slayer mewled, fighting furiously to maintain a grip on reality, but losing with every second that ticked by. Her body remembered what it was like to be wrapped in the ravenous embrace of a vampire, and after a two-year gap between occurrences, it was starving for another taste.

Holding her tightly, he continued to suckle at the chalice of her neck. Crimson nectar washed onto his tongue and dove down his throat, electrifying every muscle and nerve ending that it came in contact with. Nothing had ever felt or tasted so good; the Slayer's petite body pressed beneath his own, the liquid sugar of her life force diffusing through his system. It was blissful euphoria, the kind that stripped the world away until it was just him and her and their perfect embrace.

"Spike," she choked out, a desperate attempt to catch his attention, though the fact that he didn't know his own name made it seem rather futile. Shiny stars exploded in front of her eyes when his pelvis rocked against hers again, a little shiver running down her spine as a cool puff of air wafted over her shoulder blade. Consumed by his scent and touch and strength, she felt as if she were struggling to reach the ocean's surface with cement blocks tied to her ankles.

A deep growl rumbled through his chest as he continued siphoning fluid from her veins. Its aphrodisiac effects were already tapping on the front door of his psyche, though his animalistic mind didn't know what to make of it. He simply went with the flow, hips undulating every now and then, hand coming up to press against and stroke the soft flesh of her stomach.

A knock to the bedroom door shattered everything. Spike's feral instincts magnified the sound to a forceful blow, and his body stopped every motion. His hold on her neck having finally disappeared, Buffy was snapped back to consciousness. Dizzy emerald eyes wandered back and forth across the bedroom before managing to focus in on the shoulder in front of her.

"Buffy?" Tara's meek voice appeared. "Are you almost ready to start?"

Her mind shaken, the Slayer cleared her throat of any straining, making her best attempt at sounding casual. "Uh, yeah, just… give us five more minutes?" she requested, wondering for a moment how long she'd already been in here.

"Okay. We're just waiting for you downstairs" the blonde girl replied. "See you soon."

"Yup" Buffy called through the door. She waited until Tara's feet had trod down eight stairs before making a single move.

"Oh my God," she muttered, discomfort and a slight hint of shame drenching her voice. Spike was still a little stunned, and she took that moment to scurry out from beneath him, climbing off the bed and retreating to the other side of the room. "Oh God, oh God what's _wrong_ with me?" she raged, mind unable to grasp any solid, coherent thoughts. _I just **laid** there_, she thought with astonishment. Two fingers prodded the gouge on her throat, glad when upon return they were only dabbed with blood rather than soaked.

Feeling a little wobbly due to the blood loss, she decided to sit down and save herself the concussion. Looking across the room at the subject of her internal ranting, she saw that he seemed to be just as confused as her. Hair dishevelled, he was just staring at her like some lost little boy. The fact that he'd returned to his human visage only made him look that much more disoriented.

Rubbing her forehead, Buffy leaned back in the chair and attempted to collect her thoughts. She felt like… well, to be honest she wasn't _sure_ how she was feeling. Her mind was reeling with disgust at her lack of willpower, but at the same time she couldn't ignore the little tingles of pleasure running through her system. And they weren't the ones she had grown accustomed to experiencing after being in that kind of intimate contact with _anyone_. They were… different. Excited, maybe? She couldn't tell. Frankly, she didn't want to think on it, either, and thus began searching for new topics to ponder.

It was then that the Slayer remembered Tara's request, and realised that she was slowly eating away her five-minute window. "Okay. Okay, emotional trauma will be put on hold for a moment. Right now, Spike, I have to get you downstairs," she pointed at him, and it was when her shoulder lifted that she felt the sticky dampness of drying blood. Looking down, she could see only a fraction of the aftermath of Spike's hungry fangs, but knew that her neck was probably a mess. "Dammit," she whispered, noticing too that there was a smear of the same red fluid on his lips.

So much to clean, only two and a half minutes in which to do it.

It was a miracle, but Buffy managed to destroy all of the evidence in time for the couple to float down the stairs where the other three women were waiting. She had thrown on a deep green turtle neck and ran a comb through her somewhat messy hair. Taking Spike into the bathroom, she did the same to his blond locks and wiped away the streaks of blood on his lips. She ignored her fingertips' electric responses to coming in contact with his epidermis.

"You changed your shirt" Willow stated as they came into view, a little frown creasing her forehead.

"Yeah, Mr. Clumsy over here spilled blood all over it. I haven't read anything about it in fashion magazines, but I'm pretty sure that pig's blood and cotton don't get along very well," she said with a mildly amused roll of her eyes.

Willow nodded, she and Dawn finding the explanation logical, dismissing the issue from their minds at the same moment. Tara, on the other hand, knew that there was a different story behind the change in wardrobe. Her psychic senses were tapping her on the shoulder, suggesting there was something out of the ordinary going on behind the scenes.

The nature of Buffy's aura had been altered somehow. Deep purple sparks of dissipating lust rolled off her, along with tiny grey wisps that signified the presence of innocent lies. Something had obviously happened in the bedroom that Buffy didn't want the rest of the gang to know about.

Tara needed to only look at Spike for the explanation. Crimson waves of electricity were seeping from his pores. A symbol of power, both mental and physical; a sign that he'd recently ingested something a little more potent that the blood of a swine. Say, for example, the life force of a Slayer.

Tara could understand why Buffy wouldn't want such information exposed. What the Slayer didn't realise though was that a strong connection to Spike would only benefit their spell. Clearing her throat, the shy girl didn't hesitate to voice her thoughts. "Willow… I think it would be a good idea if maybe Buffy took my place as the conduit."

"Huh?"

"_What_?" Buffy said, mouth gaping, the sound causing Spike to flinch where he was standing behind her. "_Me_?"

"What makes you say that?" Willow asked, intrigued.

"Well, she's the only one here who's had more than five minutes of contact with Spike since he's gotten back. Buffy is much closer to him right now than any of us are, she cares just as much about getting his memories back as I do, if not more; and, it's probably going to take a lot of strength to dig through his mind" she explained, not even hinting that she knew something had occurred between Buffy and the vampire.

"Makes sense" the redhead admitted, mulling over the idea for a moment before turning to her best friend. "What do you think, Buffy?"

She remained silent, contemplating the proposal. Just five minutes ago she'd been trapped in the icy embrace of her sworn enemy, his lips locked around her neck as he drank from her, and now they wanted her to get _closer_ to him? She supposed she didn't have much of a choice. "I think Tara's right" she kept her voice smooth, not wanting to let on that she'd have any reason to be nervous of the proposal. "If there's anything we can do to boost our chances of this whole thing going smoothly, we should jump on the opportunity. I'm your girl. Just tell me how and when," she agreed, knowing that sooner or later she was going to regret this.

¤+¤

They looked like some sort of human jigsaw puzzle. Willow was sitting in the middle of the floor with her legs crossed facing Buffy's bedroom door, a broken diamond of brilliant sapphire sand poured around her, all four corners missing on the shape. Extending from a space where a vertex should have been was a line of emerald powder, at the end of which was the same structure that surrounded Willow, but it was a crimson square. In the middle of it sat Buffy. Her right hand rested against Spike's forehead, who was lying down on the floor beside her, a yellow outline traced around his body.

"Okay, Buffy… we're about to start" Willow said with a deep breath. "Now, remember, you aren't actually in any danger. No matter how real some of the memories seem, you just have to tell yourself they're just that. Memories. Images. So just keep moving on, and listen to my instructions, and everything should be fine."

Buffy nodded. "Check. No need to get all wigged out at the sight of brimstone," she smiled, taking a quick glance at Spike, who was rather calm.

The Slayer was still in shock at what she'd allowed herself to do with the Bleached Wonder. Bathing him had been one thing; admitting that it felt good when he'd accidentally thrust into her in a fit of panic was nothing big, but _this_? She felt so… _wrong_. She had almost _enjoyed_ having Spike on top of her, fangs buried in her throat, hips rocking against hers every now and then. Her neck was even still throbbing with pleasured pain in remembrance of his invasion.

Buffy couldn't even tell if the minor waves of dizziness still hitting her were from the blood loss, or from her disgustingly happy thoughts.

"Any other questions?" the witch interrupted her best friend's daze, raising her eyebrows. When Buffy shook her head, she nodded. "Okay. Tara, you and Dawn had better leave now," she instructed.

"Right. Don't want you guys turning into carrots and broccoli if one of us sneezes or coughs" Dawn said, worry tinting her casual words.

"We'll be all right Dawn" Buffy assured her sister, able to see those hints of concern.

"Right" the teenager agreed shortly. "Well, good luck anyway" she said, following Tara out of the bedroom.

When their footsteps diminished, Willow turned to her best friend, an almost excited look plastered to her face. "You ready?" she asked with a dangerous smile, always loving a good challenge when it came to working with magic.

The Slayer nodded, sitting up straight and flicking her head to the side, tossing away a stray lock of hair. She took one look at Spike, and pushed away the typhoon of emotional confusion that threatened to level her consciousness. Then, she glanced at Willow, focusing all of her energy on the red-haired Wicca. "Let's do this."


End file.
